Betrothed to a Mudblood
by Violet Waller1
Summary: Trapped together in a cave, Draco and Hermione make a blood promise to a cursed statue. A year later, the curse will take their lives if they don't marry. Can a betrothal between two bitter enemies turn their hatred to something more? And will their secret marriage save their lives or destroy everything they've ever known? D/Hr. New chapters!
1. The Death Eaters Lay a Trap

**Warning**: This story contains descriptions of strong violence in battle scenes. There is also cursing language used by certain characters and scenes of a mild sexual nature in later chapters.

**Disclaimer** : J.K. Rowling built the castle, brick by brick. I'm just slipping aphrodisiacs in Draco's and Hermione's breakfast like every evil Dramione shipper should.

This story will be the completed version of 'Betrothed to a Mudblood' that had once been abandoned.

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**Chapter One: **

**The Death Eaters Lay a Trap**

Hermione could smell the salty sea air as she Apparated with a loud POP outside the cave. She turned behind her to see the faces of her friends: Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, their hair sweeping in the wind as they looked out at the rushing sea.

Harry's Army, as the eight Hogwarts students called themselves, had returned a year after Dumbledore's death to retrieve the real Locket. It had been hidden again by Lord Voldemort, who had known for a while about the Horcrux hunt.

"Amazing!" Seamus whispered, looking down at the sheer drop of the cliff.

"Careful," Harry said loudly to the others, edging along the rocky precipice, "It's slippery."

"Harry!" Hermione yelled against the roaring of the wind, her bushy, untamed hair sparkling with flecks of sea spray, "Do you see Moody and the others? Have they Apparated yet?"

"No!" Harry yelled back, "Not yet!"

They edged their way down to the opening of the cave and stepped carefully on the boulders precariously set near the cliff's edge.

Suddenly, there was a loud POP behind her. Harry and Ron pulled out their wands defensively, only to put them back in their pockets after seeing Moody waving his hands to them. "Potter! We've got your backup!" Moody growled loudly, leaning back so the group could see the smiling faces of Hagrid, Bill, Lupin, Tonks, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dobby, along with few others. A sigh of relief spread over Hermione as she saw the Order's best reinforcements.

After a few minutes, they all stood before the fissure, looking into the cave's mouth, with Harry's wand tip illuminating the way.

"What're your orders?" Moody barked again to Harry.

"We've got to get down, swim through here, and then to a tunnel which leads to the cave. Follow me!" Harry yelled, jumping down from the boulder, and began to swim towards the fissure. The water was warmer than before. He turned, waiting for the others while Ginny swam to him quickly, followed by Seamus, then Dean, then Ron, Hermione, and Luna.

Luna was the most graceful swimmer of them all, while Neville struggled against the shallow waters, as if he couldn't really swim. Moody steadied Neville as he followed him, slipping down the boulder into the water along with the rest of the Order behind him.

Suddenly, Harry shouted, from the entrance of the tunnel, "The tunnel's flooded! Use the bubble-head charm!"

"Well, what do you expect, Harry? It's High Tide!" Hermione yelled back at him breathlessly, her hair plastered against her face as she steadied herself against the rock wall.

"Hermione, not the time," Ron chuckled, spitting salt water. In a few seconds, everyone's head was covered by a soft, glasslike ball. Harry dived under, the top of his head grazing the tunnel ceiling as he swam towards the entrance of the cave.

A gloomy procession of wandlight flickered underwater as they made their way behind him. The stairs that led into the cave were submerged underwater as well, and Harry's legs floated up them slowly.

A few minutes later they were all standing in the middle of the cave, soaking wet, their wands aloft, ready for danger. Harry walked forward, remembering the entrance to the inner chamber. He touched the wall as Dumbledore had done, but nothing happened.

Flitwick stepped up, pushing people aside. "You cannot simply touch the wall, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore knew far more magic than any of us. He was a master of wandless magic." Flitwick cleared his throat, "Revelo Portus!"

Nothing happened.

Flitwick looked around, clearing his throat. "Anyone else want a go at it?"

Bill, his long hair in a ponytail, swaggered over to the wall. "Thought you'd never ask." He felt around the wall much as Dumbledore had on his first trip to the Cave, then lifted his wand, and whispered a charm. Suddenly, the arch blazed white, and the strange writings appeared.

Harry cheered. "Now, if I remember correctly, we need payment—blood, if I'm not mistaken." Harry pulled out the knife from his pocket and touched it to his pale wrist. A spurt of blood emerged and he held it up to the wall. The arch glowed green, but turned white once again. "What's wrong?" He wondered aloud.

Ginny took Harry's knife, cleaned it in the lapping seawater at her ankles, and pressed it firmly to her own wrist. "Maybe it drinks only pure blood now." She held the bloodstained knife back up to the arch, and this time, the wall fell away to reveal the entrance.

They entered cautiously, it was evident that Voldemort had been back to the cave, and things had changed. Neither Hermione nor anyone else could guess what lay in the cave, patiently expecting them.

The Order lit their wands, throwing light on the dark inner chamber of the cave. There was a massive dark lake, just like Harry had described. The eerie green light from the middle of the lake cast a greenish glow around the chamber, the ceiling so high it was lost to darkness. The banks across the lake looked ominously dark.

"What now?" asked Seamus, his voice echoing loudly around the cave, holding his wand aloft. They looked around; the gloomy silence and peace was unnerving.

Suddenly, a sharp, cold voice boomed from the other side of the lake. "Looking for this?" Lucius Malfoy sneered, holding up a glimmering, golden locket in his hand. Severus Snape, who Hermione hadn't seen since the day Dumbledore died, strode next to him. Lucius dropped the golden locket into Snape's hand.

Shivering, Hermione looked desperately around as a vast army of Death Eaters slowly emerged from the darkness on the opposite bank. The Order was entirely surrounded. They had been trapped! There were about twice the Order's number; they were spreading across the lake front, their reflections rippling in the water. A loud cackle echoed; Bellatrix Lestrange was there. Ginny shivered and stood behind Harry. Seamus edged behind Ginny.

"Potter, haven't died yet, have you?" The sneering voice of Draco Malfoy echoed across the lake.

Harry looked up, a hatred blazing through his eyes. "You first, Malfoy!" He spat.

"Look here," a strangely creepy voice echoed around the cave, "tasty little Hogwarts brats for you to bite," the rumbling voice of Fenrir Greyback spoke. A cold, gleeful howling from the werewolves around him sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Moody growled angrily, and Greyback slammed back into the wall, which crumbled around him.

Rodolphus licked his lips. "Alastor Moody, it's been quite a while, innit?" Like a flash of lightning, he whipped his wand, and burst out, "CONFRINGO!"

A loud explosion erupted next to Hermione, and there was the smell of burnt flesh s Moody rumpled on the floor. Hermione felt like retching as the battle erupted. All around her, spells were flying and people were shouting; Harry and Draco were battling fiercely, jets of green and red light bursting from their wands.

"CRUCIO!" Bellatrix roared, coming to stand beside Draco, pointing her wand at Harry as she tortured him. For some reason, Draco lowered his wand. Harry screamed in pain, and Hermione felt as if her heart were being ripped apart. She had to save Harry, she had to—

Hermione wordlessly cast a spell against Bellatrix. The sudden attack surprised her, cutting short her loud laughter. The spell ripped Bellatrix's dress, forcing blood to sprout from her arm like an out-of-work fountain.

Harry turned over, and retched loudly on the floor, panting hard from the pain.

"You little bitch," Bellatrix screamed, aiming a curse at Hermione.

Hermione's body lifted and her breath caught in her throat as she slowly began to spin. Faster and faster she turned 'til everything was a blur. Hermione screamed, her head was pounding, she was going to faint...With a sickening thud, Hermione slammed to the ground as the curse was lifted. She raised her head groggily, and saw Bellatrix yelling at the blurry figure of some Death Eater next to her.

Suddenly, Hermione saw something that nearly stopped her heart. Severus Snape, arching his back, looking straight at Harry, was rising slowly off the ground, but in a more determined way than Hermione. He—he was flying! He spread out his hands wide and pushed his head forward, like a bird, and dove with fierce speed at Harry.

Neville, whose desperately cast spells ricocheted off Snape, screamed, "Harry, look out!"

Snape flew straight into Harry with the force of a bullet. Harry slammed into the wall under Snape's weight and Hermione could feel the loosened rocks of the ceiling beginning to fall. She could hear the shouts of the Order and the whizz bang of the spells. Hermione was still lying on the floor, dizzy from Bellatrix's curse.

"CONGELO!" one of the Carrows suddenly screamed, and the water of the lake hardened to a jelly-like consistency. Amycus Carrow began crawling on the semi-solid water across the lake, leading a small band of hungry werewolves across, who were hungrily licking their lips.

A sudden spell hit Hagrid square in the chest, and he crumpled to the floor close to where Hermione stood, his giant weight forcing the ground to tremble.

A gut-wrenching fear wracked Hermione. She had to get everyone out of there. She had to do something!

Then, suddenly, her eye caught sight of something. A small glimmer of gold. Snape must have dropped the locket when he attacked Harry! Hermione mustered all her strength and ran toward it; if only she could get it back before anyone saw—

"Not so fast, Miss Granger," the calculating voice of Snape sounded behind her, and she turned slowly. He held Harry's wand in his hand, pointing at the locket as he ordered, "Pick that up."

Hermione, fumbling through the rocks, picked up the cold locket with a shaky hand.

Snape looked quickly around. Still pointing the wand at her face, he bent down, and ripped off the cloth from Hagrid's cloak, who was lying limp on the ground. Snape threw the cloth on the floor. "Put it there."

Hermione threw the locket into the soft lump of Hagrid's cloak. She was shaking. Snape had disarmed Harry. Could he have killed him?

Snape, never taking his eye off her, picked up the locket covered by the cloth. His eyes bored into her as if he were reading her mind. Hermione struggled inside, though she looked perfectly calm on the outside. If only she could reach her wand, if something could just happen, some distraction so she could disarm Snape—

Suddenly, the ground began rumbling. She stumbled forward, falling. All around her, everyone was falling to their hands and knees as the earth continued to shake violently.

She looked up from the ground. Snape was nowhere. She couldn't find him. Had he Disapparated?

She looked across the lake. The Death Eaters were falling, too. Steadying himself against the rocks, Draco tried to prop up his father, Lucius, whose face was slightly bloodied.

More and more of the ceiling fell down, dropping boulders large enough to crush giants. Suddenly, someone pulled her back as a large boulder landed where she had fallen moments earlier. She turned to find Luna, the only who had maintained her balance during the earthquake.

"Be careful, Hermione," Luna said dreamily, "those Water Spurts can cause quite a bit of damage."

"Hermione!" Ron screamed, "Hermione!"

She whirled at the sound of his voice and they spotted each other. "Get Harry out of here!" He yelled, " He's unconscious! Get everyone out of here! I'll hold them off!"

Hermione searched frantically for Harry's body, but Luna tugged at her arm, pointing to a crumpled figure near the back, and led Hermione to him. With a quick flick of her wand, Luna levitated Harry's limp body and made her way to the tunnel archway. Hermione and McGonagall levitated Hagrid towards the entrance, and Lupin and Tonks carried Hagrid from there on. Flitwick was levitating Moody. The rocks crumbled all around them; hard stones pelted repeatedly.

Lupin, before escaping through the archway, turned to her frantically. "Hermione, the cave is collapsing—get anyone you can find, but don't stay longer than you can!"

Abruptly, the rumbling stopped. Lupin looked around. There were a handful of Death Eaters on the other side, and a few Order members on Hermione's side.

Suddenly, the water roiled and churned, agitated. Something massive was rising. Hermione swallowed. From the depths of the dark lake, rose the most massive creature she had ever seen. A wild-eyed Basilisk emerged, screeching, from the dark water.

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**Author's Note**: To the best beta in the world, Amandea X, who spent so much time editing this story! I can't thank you enough! This story takes place in the summer of their Seventh Year. Voldemort discovered Harry was after his Horcruxes, and he hid them again - the Locket going back in the Cave. Harry's Army, a small part of the Order of the Phoenix, go back to the Cave to retrieve it, but the Death Eaters know they were coming. Also, in this story, Lucius Malfoy was the Minister of Magic during that year.

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**Next chapter:** Thoughtless Rescues: In which Draco and Hermione save each other.


	2. Thoughtless Rescues

**Chapter Two**

**Thoughtless Rescues **

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Hermione began to shiver violently from fear.

Even larger than the Norwegian Ridgeback, the Basilisk Hermione saw before her was breathtakingly frightening. Voldemort had hidden in the cave the most dangerous creature in the entire world to protect his Horcrux. A Horcrux which slipped through their hands once again.

There was pure chaos around her. She heard screams from all around, even from the other side of the cave. Hermione strained to see Lucius Malfoy's stunned face. This was something even he hadn't expected. The Basilisk swayed its head side to side, screeching loudly up at the dark ceiling. All of a sudden, it turned its great yellow eyes on the tiny humans running away.

With a great crash, it brought down its large beak on the other side of the cave near the werewolves. Emitting an echoing cry, the Basilisk struggled to bring its tail up through the congealed waters upon which a few werewolves were standing. Its tail finally broke through, sending Amycus and the werewolves down to the depths, where the Inferi were hungrily waiting for them. It swayed its head against the rocks, dragging great boulders down to fall upon both sides of the lake. Hermione knew then that the basilisk was destroying the cave, killing itself and anyone else within it.

Heart racing wildly, Hermione turned away, following the rest of the Order out the archway. She swerved between great masses of crashing rocks. Clouds of dust billowed around her, blinding her path. She heard a blood curdling scream. Ginny fell just ahead of her, her feet crumpling. Hermione ran to Ginny, pulling her up and hurriedly dragging her limp form to the archway. It was just her and Ginny now; everyone else was safe. Harry must have already Apparated back to Order Headquarters. All she had to do was make it through the archway. Just then, her eye caught a familiar flash of red hair ahead of her, and she sighed with relief.

"RON!" Hermione yelled and he turned, ashen, to face her. Ron grabbed Ginny from Hermione and with great ease picked her up, running for the archway. Hermione followed on his coattails when suddenly her feet slipped. Looking down, she saw, through the haze of dust, the sheen of the locket. Gripping the locket chain in a vice, she set her gaze straight on the arch. Almost there, she thought to herself, as if she knew she might not make it through. Just a little further, run, Hermione, run—

Before she even saw what happened, she felt it. A great wet, prickly mass caught her by the stomach, pulling her back. It was the tail of the Basilisk—and she was caught. Before she knew it, she was flying away from the arch, the dark mass of gleaming water below her. I can't fall in the water, not with the werewolves! Suddenly, she saw the rocky ledge below her, and she was slammed through the wall, falling in so deep she could barely see the green, glimmering light from the cave. Her head seared with pain and her back ached uncomfortably. Some voice pulled her out of unconsciousness; someone was calling her.

"HERMIONE! NO!" Ron's hoarse, desperate voice echoed around the cave. Hermione got up on unsteady legs and crawled through the rubble to his voice. She thought she saw him beyond the arch before the ceiling collapsed all around it, closing the passageway forever.

Stunned, Hermione stood, watching the ceiling crumble into the water. Leaning against a rock, she murmured Ron's name in a choked sob. She looked down for the first time, the bloodied bodies of werewolves scattered under the piles of rubble. She felt pity for them, and thought of helping them.

Suddenly, she heard Lucius Malfoy's cold voice, desperately yelling, "Draco! Where are you?" Lucius was inches away from her. It would be better to get killed by him, Hermione thought, than by the Inferi in the water. She stumbled towards his desperate voice and saw him from behind; his gleaming white hair shone in the wandlight.

Lucius turned around, hearing her footsteps, the cloud of dust blinding him. "Draco!" he cried hopefully, running to her, grabbing her by the arm. "There you are! We should—" He stopped. He knew. For a moment Hermione wished she were Draco so she could feel what it would be like to bring that much joy to a Death Eater's face, to someone who hated her with fury unmatched.

"You—you filthy little—" Lucius raised his wand wrathfully, wrenching his hands away from her, sickened that he'd touched her.

It was then that Hermione saw another familiar flash of white-gold hair, struggling against the Basilisk. Maybe it was the small, worried touch Lucius gave her, maybe Draco's struggling reminded her of her first year as she was attacked by the vicious Troll. Whatever it was, she felt a strange need to help Draco, knowing that not even a Death Eater deserved to die for Voldemort's cold-blooded plans.

She struggled, looking around desperately for something that might help. Lucius had run to Draco, shooting great, whizzing green curses at the smooth snakeskin, which sent the spells bouncing around the room. Draco gripped his arm, shrinking back in pain, but shot thick ropes from his wand to bind the beast. The Basilisk was pecking at him with its large beak, and Draco swerved, jumping out of the way narrowly.

Hermione had to save him, no matter what he had done before. He didn't deserve to die just yet. Lucius' spells are useless, she thought, scouring her brain. Suddenly, it came to her. Praying to Minerva, she ran to the nearest boulder, which was nearly her size, and closed her eyes in concentration as she transfigured it. "Gallus Conjurus!"

Then, she heard it: the fierce, joyous cock-crow piercing the room. She opened her eyes to see a life-size rooster in place of the boulder, beckoning the dawn in an unending, hopeful voice almost as beautiful as the Phoenix Lament. Hermione turned around smiling, and she thought she saw the ghost of a smile on Draco's face. Suddenly, the great crying Basilisk was silent. In one magnificent swoop, the Basilisk crashed under water, slowing arching back gracefully into the dark depths. A giant tsunami wave was slowly growing above Hermione, a wall of dark, ever-growing water. She suddenly heard the rush of footsteps, a yell, and she turned to see Lucius running to a fissure in the wall, probably where the Death Eaters had originally entered. He was screaming for Draco, but she couldn't see Draco anywhere.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the great snake tail of the Basilisk rose above the water, striking the ceiling above it. A thunderous avalanche shuddered around her, rocks closing after Lucius and sealing the only escape she had out of the cave. All around she was trapped. The wall of dark water was slowly breaking and a shower of pebbles rained on her. The last thing she felt before being swept up by the massive current was a pair of strong arms that could have only belonged to Draco, grabbing her by the elbow, shielding her from the terrible avalanche above.

The powerful wave created by the falling Basilisk swept over them, crushing the pair against the wall before pulling them into the depths of the lake.

The dark, stormy water was icy, and Hermione felt suffocated by pure fear. She kicked around, hands and feet flailing as she struggled to break to the surface, but couldn't. The surge was pushing them down to the dark depths of the lake. She could see the great oily film of Basilisk venom, shimmering here and there in the water, turning many shades of luminescent green. The cadavers of the Inferi floated idly around her, brushing coldly against her skin but this time there was something different. They seemed dead. Unmoving, they were just as lifeless as the bodies of the bloodied werewolves that were caught up in the current.

Draco's strong arms still gripped her, and she struggled to hold on to something.

She was drowning.

Hermione reached for his arm but instead she smacked his face and bashed him in the chest, almost drowning him as she struggled to the surface. What was she doing? It was as if instinct took over, and she didn't care if he drowned if she could live. As she flailed her arms about, she saw through the murky green water great, crimson bursts of blood effloresce from his face where she had struck him. His arms were flagging, and he began to drift lifelessly into the depths. .

He was still alive, no thanks to her. And she couldn't leave him. Desperately, she looked about for her wand. She grabbed Draco by the wrist, and pointed her wand up to the surface, summoning all her energy to raise them up. A sudden burst of water issued from her wand, pulling both of them along.

Her head broke the surface. She gasped wildly, blinking the stinging water out of her eyes. Her loud breathing echoed around the silent cave.

She pulled Draco's heavy body up; he was still unconscious and a steady trickle of blood ran down his nose. The water was calm and Hermione gulped down the fear as she suddenly remembered that the powerful form of the Basilisk was curled up right beneath her. She kicked her legs hard, wading to the lake shore. Almost there, she told herself, as her muscles ached from the weight. Swim a little bit more, Hermione—

It was pitch dark. She couldn't reach for her wand, but she could see flecks of light around the black, wet walls nearby.

Her struggling feet slammed against stone and she breathed a sigh of relief. She first raised Draco's heavy body up, pushing him up on the flat pebble ground. Her muscles were sore and a part of her just wanted to float on the water, not wanting to get on land. But she willed herself, and heaved herself up, falling roughly beside Draco on her stomach. She felt heavier than she had ever felt in her life. Her robes were soggy and the pebbles were a welcome warmth compared to the water. She could feel the cold locket pressing up against her throat. It gave her a strange feeling, almost of sad despair.

She looked drowsily over at Draco, hoping he wasn't dead, if for the only reason that she'd die of fear if she was all alone in this cave. She lifted her heavy, wet hand and flung it on his face to check his breathing. He groaned slightly against the weight of her hand and she could feel his soft, warm breaths against her fingers.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

The sluggish weight of sleep overcame her. Before she fainted, she raised herself up lethargically to realize that she had never seen this part of the cave before. In fact, the familiar misty, green glow of the middle of the lake was gone. Not even the walled-in archway, or the avalanched entrance of the Death Eaters was there.

It was as if they were miles away from where she had first entered with Harry and Ron a few hours ago. She thought of them longingly for a moment before falling into a dead faint.


	3. Care for a Little Exploring?

**Chapter Three: **

**Care For A Little Exploring? **

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She felt like she had been out for a week. Even through her exhausting sleep, Hermione could feel the cold press of the pebbles against her face, and the chill of the locket against her neck. Her neck felt unbelievably stiff. Slowly, she heard a sugary sing-song voice break her sleep.

"Oh, Granger…"

Her eyes blurred open, only to be caught by the blind darkness of the cave.

"Wake up, precious," the sing-song voice continued, and she felt someone gently prodding her, though she couldn't see anything.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey…"

Unsticking her cheek from the pebbled ground, she raised herself up. "What?" She asked confusedly, "You made eggs?"

"No," suddenly the sugary sweetness of his voice drained, "Just wanted you to be fully awake for this."

"Wha-" she began, wondering, but suddenly –

PUNCH!

An angry, clenched fist socked her squarely in the eye.

If she couldn't see anything through the darkness before, now she couldn't see anything but bright flashes of painful light. She reeled in pain, clutching her face in agony. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Oh," he said casually, as if thinking, "Since you tried to drown me!"

Hermione's eyes widened. She couldn't believe him!

"I saved your life!" Hermione roared angrily, "I dragged your stupid, unconscious, ungrateful balls out of the water - You ungrateful … Death Eater!"

"Saved me?" He roared, "You wouldn't have had to save me if you didn't pummel me to Merlin when I tried to save you from drowning!" His voice was dangerously angry, "I was the one who saved your filthy mudblood arse!"

He strode over to her, and pushed her against the wall, pushing his wand in her throat. He said in a dangerous whisper, "You could thank me for stopping Bella in the cave from spinning you in the air; you probably forgot I saved you during the World Cup from the muggle-hunters; I saved you from Fenrir finding you and your stupid friends when they attacked the castle! You COULD thank me like a decent witch," his voice hardened, "but being the ugly, swotty Hermione Granger, your standard greeting involves thrashing me till you draw blood!"

His face took on a strange expression, as if he was aware of a softer tone to his voice that he hadn't intended.

She gulped painfully. "I wouldn't have thought it of you. It's surprising you punched me with your hands since you hate muggles so much. What, too scared to use your wand?" she blustered, struggling against the wand at her throat.

"All right, Granger, have it your way." he said, calmly, walking away from her.

Suddenly, like the sound of a match striking, his wand lit up. He held it over his head, so the cave, and the both of them fell into light for the first time.

He held up three fingers. "Pick one."

"What?" She coughed, squinting at him in the dim light.

"Just pick one!" He said impatiently.

Against her better judgment, the curiosity-piqued Hermione gently nudged Draco's ring finger, and she waited expectedly.

He nodded solemnly. "You picked the Imperius," he informed her, "It's not my favorite, but It's more fun in the long run; You see, I could make you run around here flapping your arms, make you transfigure yourself into a owl, jump into the water, snog an Imperi, snog the Basilisk, and snog that stupid rooster you summoned, swim back here, and kill yourself."

He looked at her, a playful wickedness creasing his face, "You see, Granger, the possibilities are endless."

That's it, she thought, getting to her feet, her hand still massaging her blackened left eye, no more mercy, Mr. Malfoy.

She snatched her wand, screaming her spell in her anger: "STUPEFY!"

A jet of red light burst from her wand. It broke on his chest, and he stumbled back.

"WANDIWASI!" Draco yelled. Her wand slipped from her hand, and shot painfully up her nose.

Horrified, she stopped; attempting to discretely pull it out by turning her back to him. Why did she care if he saw her with a wand up her nose?

She could hear him laughing behind her. She turned, seeing him leaning on a rock for support, and his face was beet red, reminding her of Ron. He was doubled over, and practically wheezing.

Not wanting to stop the momentum of the fight, her stinging nose advised Hermione he'd look practically scrumptious covered in oozing boils.

"Furnunculus!" She yelled.

He gasped, feeling his rutted, oozing face.

"Tergeo!" Draco roared venomously.

A shot of green engulfed her, and a tingling sensation shot through her body. Shaking her head, Hermione asked, "Was that - a cleaning spell?"

He sneered, as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "Too bad it didn't work on your filthy blood –"

She didn't give him time to finish. "REDUCTO!" She screamed.

He doubled over in pain, but not for long.

His deep voice echoed around the cavernous walls, "CRUCIO!"

Draco's spell grazed her shoulder and sparked on the rocks behind her.

She gasped scandalized, turning back to look at him, as if she couldn't believe he was capable of casting that spell. He winced slightly under her shocked gaze.

Hermione could swear she saw a glint of his white teeth as he smirked playfully in the dark.

"Next time, Mudblood, I won't aim to miss."

Sweat was pouring down her face, and her breaths came out in gasps. There was a stitch in her side.

Draco certainly wasn't the easiest Death Eater Hermione had ever dueled, even if a nagging feeling at the back of her mind told her he didn't take her seriously as an opponent. It felt more like a dueling club at Hogwarts, with the harmless spells Draco and Hermione had been throwing at each. That is, it felt like a game up until he cast the Cruciatus, even though it didn't actually hit her.

Hermione felt anger bubble inside her. She felt like a fool thinking that things would change after she had saved him. She felt so stupid, and deceived. Did he really mean to torture her? Some part of her had hoped they could put their differences aside, and find a way out together of the cave. She wondered momentarily if he could actually torture her. A shiver of fear shot up her spine.

"I'm not going to kill you," Draco murmured, as if reading her mind, "And stop looking at me like I've sprouted two heads!" He spat angrily.

She gulped, trying to hide her anger from him, but she couldn't hold back. The words spilled from her mouth unconsciously, "Why didn't you stop Snape from killing Dumbledore?"

She winced. Great going, Hermione, the last question you'll ask before he murders you. She wished she hadn't spoken at all after the words came tumbling out of her mouth. The darkness was undulating. It felt like hours before he answered.

"It wasn't worth it. Too dangerous."

"You could have let Dumbledore hide you and your family! Make - make You-Know-Who think you died fighting! You could have saved everyone involved!" She screeched, her eyes clouding with tears.

"I told that old fool what would have happened if he helped me." He said quietly.

"How? Harry said you never said anything back to him!" Hermione was still screeching angrily.

"So, you haven't caught on that Potter's not the smartest wizard in the world?" He said, irritatedly explaining, "Legilimens! The old fool could hear my thoughts, and I told him! His beloved double agent would have to die if I let him protect the Malfoys like that. In the end, he knew Snape's worth more than him in this war. There's a lot more that I don't know that happened between them, a lot more that Snape won't tell even me. My head's dizzy from watching him play both sides." He paused, "Dunno why I have to tell you all this. Since when did you take over for the Wizengamot?"

She blinked the tears out of her eyes. "I - I didn't know all that." She paused again, before saying, "Sorry," under her breath. Not that she really was sorry, but it was always a good thing to say to cover her arse, now that she was trapped with a supposed mass-murderer.

"What was that?" He asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "I couldn't hear you."

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of apologizing twice. "Don't know if you've noticed, Malfoy," she said, mimicking his mocking tone, "but we haven't been trying to kill each other the last few minutes. I think the apocalypse is near." She said, smilingly.

She lit her wand, and held it up over her head, so the cave was dully lit around them.

"Don't remind me." He said, groaning, "I'd much rather black your eye, Granger, than have a heart-to-heart," Draco remarked, pausing for a moment, "let's not make a habit of this."

"Deal!" She smiled, holding out her hand to him. The corners of his twitched, before he forced his mouth straight. Ignoring her outstretched hand, he looked around him, and peered over at the dark waters of the lake.

"Where are we?" He asked confusedly, searching for some familiar signs that weren't there. He looked here and there for the caved-in entrances, but he couldn't find them. He realized that they were probably far away from where they had first entered. "Where'd you drag us, Granger?" He spat angrily.

Pulling her hand back quickly into her pocket, she yelled, "I didn't drag us anywhere! And I don't know either where we are! Miles away from the archway, from what I can tell."

His stomach suddenly gurgled loudly. So loudly that Hermione giggled.

"Think it's funny, do you, that I'm going to starve to death?!" Draco burst out, "At this rate, I'll probably have to eat mudblood stew with basilisk pie." He grinned, "Though, I could floss with your hair."

She made a face. "You disgust me."

"That's what I've been aiming for."

Hermione looked around at the dark walls, hoping to find a small chink of sun or moonlight, "How long do you think we've been here?"

"Hours. Days. Weeks. Who knows, Granger, we're probably going to be stuck here for the rest of our lives." He smirked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't get any ideas and try to do something." She cried, edging back, "I have a wand and I know how to use it."

"Who'd want to do something to you?" He asked, sounding hysterical, "I'd rather fondle Crabbe or- or snog Goyle. The Dark Lord has a more attractive face than you, and a Wildebeest has better hair. And Granger," Draco paused, "That wasn't a compliment, either."

She pretended not to hear him, though she was knitting her eyebrows in anger. "well, I think you secretly love me," she said, summoning up every last ounce of sanctimoniousness she had, "that's why you love to rescue me so much. Face it, Malfoy, you're in love. With Hermione Granger. And you can't get enough. " She smirked, and she wondered why she sounded so unlike herself. She sounded almost like him, she thought with shock, as if spending time with him was rubbing off on her.

There was silence for quite some time.

Finally, he spoke.

"Fancy getting out of here?" He asked, clearly annoyed by her last outburst, "Don't know about you, but I've had enough of your pompous Gryffindor arrogance for a lifetime."

"What do you suggest?" She asked quickly, since she herself was desperate to get out. Even if she felt infinitely safer with him around, the Cave still gave her the creeps. And she'd much rather be with Ron and Harry than with the stupid, evil prat sitting in front of her, casually dusting crumbs from his shirt front as if he had forgotten they were in the middle of a war. She explained, "We can't use the Reductor Curse, since we don't know how deep the Cave is. We'd end up caving ourselves in further."

She wished she still had her purse with her, and hated herself for leaving it in the tent. Well, at least it's with Ron and Harry, who probably will need it after they're healed.

"Of course we can't use the Reductor, Granger," Draco said, pulling out his wand and placing it on his open palm, "I was thinking of something more simple."

His wand suddenly spun around on his palm like a compass, before slowing down and pointing to the dark walls behind him. After looking in that direction for a moment, he looked up at her.

"Care for a little exploring?" He grinned at her mischievously, and she couldn't help smiling back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: **

**The Lost Tomb**

* * *

She looked up at him, at his hand reaching down for hers, at the small grin on his face. He looked so innocent; and some part of her had always known that. She realized she understood him better than she would have liked to admit. She took his hand, and was slightly flustered when she noticed how strong he was, and how easily he pulled her up. She walked ahead of him, her wand lighting the way. He followed, carefully studying his wand on his open palm, spinning like a compass. They edged along the rocky edge of the water. Some part of Hermione was less afraid of the water since she knew that the Basilisk was dead. But the Inferi, who didn't even grab her or Draco when they were drowning - were they actually dead too? How could they have died?

She steadied herself as they ventured deeper into the cave. The rough pebble pathway broke into rows of precarious rocks resting near the walls. In some places, there was no place to walk upon; just the slow, lapping dark water all around. Draco seemed less afraid than her to wade across the water, and sometimes, he would wade beside her, as she edged across the rocks.

"Where are we going?" She asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

He was still studying the compass, and walking purposefully behind her. "The only two entrances to the cave we knew of was through the cliff facing the sea," he said, his voice echoing slightly, "And that was to the South. There might be a few more entrances, but I bet they're all seaside."

She nodded, and continued walking. Suddenly, in the water, her eye caught the shimmering luminescent basilisk venom she had seen earlier.

"Watch out!" She said, pointing the light at it. The waters sloshed around his ankles as he jumped back, and he sprang up quickly on the rock she had been standing.

He was standing inches behind her, and she couldn't help the hot blush that rushed to her cheeks. He steadied himself by placing his arm on her back, and she could suddenly smell his woody cologne. Hermione, stop it! Get a grip! She felt something turn to ice against her chest, as if suddenly angered by her self-control.

"No wonder they were dead," he said, his warm breath blowing against her cheek. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

"What?" She said breathlessly.

"The Inferi," he explained, nudging her to walk again, "Basilisk venom is the rarest and oldest poison in the world. Instant death - more effective than the Killing Curse. One drop of this, and even the most cursed being in the world, like an Inferi, cannot endure for a second longer. Dumbledore had been sending Hagrid and Mad-Eye Moody out for this in Borgin and Burkes for years, or so I've heard."

She turned around, her senses returning. "And just what are you implying by that?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Just that Basilisk Venom is very popular with the Anti-Dark Arts crowd too. "

Draco looked back at the shimmering oil-like liquid on the water, as if considering something. He groaned, as if being defeated by a thought, "Gads! An opportunity like this never comes up." He said roughly, his eyes glinting, and conjured a couple glass vials. He leaned over the water's edge behind her.

She blustered, suddenly sickly afraid, "what are you doing?! You could get killed!"

He continued to reach for the venom, "not unless you push me in, Granger." He turned to look at her, "I'd think you of all people would be trying to bottle this stuff, seeing as you could buy your boyfriend a nicer pigsty with the galleons you'd make."

She flushed. "He's not my boyfriend," she paused for a few minutes, studying him carefully. "but now that you mention it, Ron probably deserves that money more than you do."

She swore she could see him smiling from the corner of her eye as she stooped next to him. What am I doing? I'm acting like Slughorn! Like some common, greedy, opportunistic Slytherin!

Hermione groaned, "Budge over."

"No."

"Move." She said bossily and elbowed him, but he elbowed her harder.

They sat there, staring daggers at each other in perpetual silence.

"This is my rock you're standing on!" Hermione shrieked indignantly, pushing him away.

"Well, it was my idea!" Draco yelled back.

They glared at each other intensely for a few more minutes.

Finally, He groaned, throwing his hands up as if in defeat, before shifting aside to give her room, "You'd make a fine Harpy, you know that?"

She grinned happily at him, but he scowled miserably at the water ahead of him.

A few minutes later, after they had tightly stoppered the corks, and as the shimmering venom floated thickly inside the glass vials, they got up.

"That was most of it?" She asked, swishing her vial and pocketing it in her robes. He nodded, looking at the water, making sure they hadn't missed anything.

They continued walking ahead, turning to the left and right as Draco's wand indicated. After what seemed like an hour, they suddenly came to a stop. A towering wall stood in front of them, reaching high up in the ceiling and all around them, barring their way.

He groaned loudly, "Guess we're turning back then," he said irritatedly, and traced his way back, not waiting for her.

But something told Hermione to wait. A cold, excited, almost thrilled voice in her heart made her hypnotically reach a tentative hand to the rough-hewn rock in front of her.

Suddenly, she turned quickly around for Draco, who was walking away. "WAIT!" She called out to him, and he turned back to look at her.

Her eyes sparkling, Hermione cried in a feverish excitement, "The wall's hollow."

Draco walked back across the rocks, intently watching Hermione in the dim light of her wand.

"What d'you say, Granger?" He asked, skipping nimbly from rock to rock toward her.

She sighed, her cold voice sounding impatiently agitated, "The wall," she tapped it lightly with her wand, "it's hollow."

She suddenly looks different, thought Draco, even her voice sounds strange. Almost like – like HIS voice.

"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked, touching her face nervously.

He searched deeply into her eyes again, before shaking his head, "nothing."Draco turned his gaze to the wall, and touched it instinctively, as if feeling for something. In the light, he suddenly reminded Hermione of Bill, with his self-confident walk, and his cool languidness.

She leaned back, watching him with respectful awe, excitedly asking, "you know Geomancy, the art of stone magic?!"

Draco turned to look at her, "you could sound a little less surprised," he said sarcastically, "you see, Granger, when you're practically living with the Dark Lord, you tend to learn a thing or two."

She shook her head in amazement. "Dumbledore, Bill Weasley, You-Know-Who, and you," Hermione counted on her fingers, "That's really impressive. My books said that the practice was dead. That there was no one living who could - "

"Well, they're wrong, obviously, and there are probably more than just the four of us," He said, his hands lightly grazing the walls, which strangely sent shivers down her back, "you'd better sit down, Granger. I'm good, but I'll probably take much longer than that long-haired ginger pollock - or the Old Fool."

A hot anger bubbled up her throat. "Stop calling him that!"

"What, you probably prefer The Heir of Merlin?" He asked, looking at her condescendingly, "Dumbledore's not great enough for that name."

She scowled at the back of his head, holding herself back from strangling him, since he was the only one between the two of them who seemed to know a way out.

Crouching down on her knees, she eagerly held her wand up for him. Hermione suddenly realized her legs were aching, and her back felt like it was made of loosely joined bricks. But a strange demonic happiness surged through her, waiting excitedly for Draco to open the wall.

Another part of her found that she liked sitting back, and that she liked letting someone else help with the thinking, and with the work. With Harry and Ron, sometimes she felt more like an instrument, and she realized ashamedly she had been not just bored with the camping, but with the both of them.

She honestly felt like she was quite enjoying herself here with Draco, though she'd never repeat that to another living soul. It was dangerously exciting to be with someone she barely knew, someone she barely even trusted. With someone who barely knew her.

"Can you teach me?" she asked meekly, looking up at him.

"Geomancy? Now?" He asked her incredulously.

She sighed, disappointed. She began playing with the frayed ends of her black robes. He watched her for a moment, before -

"All right, If we ever get out of here," he said, turning away from her as she looked up, "and if we haven't killed each other, and if we're done with this stupid war," he paused, "and we're both still alive-"

"So, what you're saying is, when hell freezes over?" She asked.

"Exactly!" Draco smiled, "You know, Granger, sometimes we do see eye to eye after all."

She thought for a moment. "That actually doesn't sound too bad of a proposition. You've got a deal, Malfoy!"

She happily held out her arm again, and he didn't take it ... again. He snorted disgustedly at her outstretched arm, "You don't want me to shake that, do you?"

Pulling her hand away, and rolling her eyes, she continued playing with the ends of her robes. And Draco continued to feel around the wall.

Her arms began to tire from holding her lit wand for him. She yawned loudly. Wonder what time it is, Hermione thought, it must be late. She settled down comfortably, letting her feet float languidly in the water. She looked up at him, silently admiring him and wondering what else he knew that she didn't.

She watched his hands carefully, hoping she could study him and learn something. His mouth moved wordlessly, and he sometimes pressed the wall; sometimes ran the tips of his fingers across the length of it. Something in her shivered excitedly.

Still holding up her wand, her eyes travelled to his face. She saw the wisps of hair falling casually in his eyes, and the dark grime on his arms and face. There was dried blood on his nose, and she remembered guiltily, it was probably her fault.

She looked at his white shirt, stained with blood, that he had rolled up to the sleeves. His arms were strong; but still graceful. He was wearing dark pants, which was wet near the ankles –

Suddenly, Draco turned around, breaking her out of her reverie, "If you're quite finished admiring my bum," He said, turning back at her, pointing to the wall, "I'd like the light back here. I think I've lost where I was. I'll have to start all over again."

"What?" She asked wildly, her voice sounding dangerous, as she got quickly to her feet, "You're lying! You have to find a way through this wall! You can't be lost!" She then started to shiver violently, and her teeth began to chatter loudly. Small bursts white mist puffed from her nose and mouth. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands together.

Draco looked at her intently. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, I was only kidding," he said, before swishing his wand and chanting a charm. The entire wall glowed green, before pulling apart from the middle, like a stone curtain, to reveal a dark, ancient, cavernous room.

Hermione stopped shivering. Her brown eyes glinted yellow, and she gasped ecstatically as she saw the room, "I know it's here, I can feel it."

Draco had been watching her the entire time as the passageway had opened. "What do you mean, Granger? What's here?"

She looked back at him, and the yellow spark in her eye dimmed. "Hmm? I don't know actually. I just feel – very happy all of a sudden. I don't know why."

She sounds normal now, Draco thought, looking at her closely again, I wonder why?

She was about to walk through, when Draco held her arm back. "Wands at the ready. We don't know what's waiting for us there. Granger, Let me go first."

She nodded, and held her wand up defensively. The vast chamber ahead looked terribly dark, like it would swallow light and never spit it out. It looked almost like an entrance to an Egyptian tomb.

Draco peered inside, and turned back quickly to look at the watery passageway behind him. He ran his hands through his hair, "I can't believe it."

"What?" She asked curiously.

He pointed ahead, and held up his dimly-lit wand to light up the middle of the chamber. He leaned next to her, pointing in the middle of the room. "See that?"

She squinted, and through the dim light, Hermione gasped. In the middle of the vast circular Chamber, there was a great marble tomb. Atop it, there was a carved marble figure of a beautiful woman sleeping peacefully, her long hair flowing gently around her face. Her arms were crossed over a marble manuscript, which lay on her chest. On her head, there was a real glittering, emerald studded diamond tiara. A flash of red passed over her eyes as she hungrily saw the emerald tiara.

Draco's eyes were wide, as he took in the sight. He said, almost hesitantly, "I think - I think we're in the Tomb - the Lost Tomb of Ravenclaw."

Hermione looked up at him, her breath knocked out of her chest, "What? Don't be silly! That's a legend! It was never discovered! This is probably just the Tomb of some medieval princess -"

"Granger," Draco said slowly, trying to make her understand, "We came through the lake of water ... "

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She looked up at the sleeping marble statue, her eyes wide. Hermione began breathing shallowly, "I can't believe this! I can't believe this! It was in Hogwarts: A History, the first edition!"

"Yes, I know," Draco said offhandedly, "You're not the only one who knows how to read. What was it again?" He recited, "Legend has it that the Tomb is hidden under a lake. And no one can find it unless they've drowned themselves -"

Hermione broke in, excitedly, "so, because we both almost drowned, we – we came to the Lost Tomb? It was hidden here all this time? Then, it's true! They were in love!" Her brown eyes glittered excitedly.

Draco rolled his eyes, "woman, can't you stop being a hopeless romantic for once? We don't know if Salazar Slytherin made this Tomb for her. We're on the brink of an archaeological triumph and all you can think about is if Ravenclaw and Slytherin were lovers."

She frowned, "Shut up, Malfoy! That was a very big part of Hogwart's history. She fell in love with Salazar Slytherin - and stop looking at me like that, you know it's true - and before he was banished from Hogwarts, Rowena gave him a Locket. She died a few years later, and her soul went to rest with him. Slytherin realized he loved her but it was a little too late. He built her a Tomb, and carved her statue with his bare hands and placed a diadem on her head." She said, pointing to the statue and the diadem, as if it proved her story, "After he died, Slytherin's soul is said to haunt Rowena's Tomb!"

She hopped on her feet giddily, while Draco tried to hide a smile, "Oh!" She cried merrily, "This is so romantic!"

He cleared his throat, "Will you stop acting like a lovesick gargoyle? That story is not romantic - it's a bloody tragedy!"

"No, it isn't," she explained patiently, "they found true love - even if they had to die first to realize it."

He strode forward to the arch, ignoring her completely, "you haven't been reading Fifi Lafolle's romance series, have you?"

"Shut up, you big prat." Hermione stopped, "Wait, Malfoy, do you think You-Know-Who knows about this Chamber? This Tomb?"

He looked at her, as he held out an arm to stop her from entering, "Stay back, let me go first. You don't know what curses could get set off by your dirty blood."

She glared daggers at him, hoping to petrify him with her eyes.

He paused, "You know, Granger," he said, as he held his wand out to examine the arch, "It probably doesn't matter anyway, having a safe name for the Dark Lord. This cave looks too old to be penetrated by the insignificant spells of the Ministry. See here?" He pointed at the arch, "The stone here's been quarried more than a hundred thousand years ago. It's probably one of the greatest Unplottable places in England. Any Unforgivables cast won't even register, so, obviously the Taboos won't either –"

Hermione studied him carefully, "You're not tricking me, are you?" she asked slowly, "Making me say something, so your friends will come and get you?"

"Fine, Granger, I'll try it," Draco scoffed, before puffing up his chest to yell loudly, "VOLDEMORT IS AN UGLY BOGEY COME TO LIFE! AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS A STUPID, SENILE, SMELLY, ARSE!"

They waited for something to happen, listening intently as the words "smelly arse" echoed for a few minutes around the Cave behind them. Hermione fought back the urge to slap him. How dare he say something like that about Dumbledore? After all he did for the evil prat –

Draco turned to her, smirking. "See, Granger?" He said, gesturing to the Cave around them, "Nothing." He turned away from her, studying the arch again carefully, as his hands caressed the stones gracefully.

A great peaceful happiness rushed through her. She was free! It had been months since they couldn't say the proper names of anything, and it actually hurt her. She could say anything she liked, anything at all-

"ALBUS PERCEVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE IS THE GREATEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED!" Hermione yelled happily, wishing Draco would turn around irritated, "AND I HOPE LORD VOLDEMORT DIES A THOUSANDS DEATHS!"

Draco did turn around, but instead of scowling at her, he was grinning slightly. Surprised at his reaction, she smiled at him, and he opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly –

Hermione screamed, grasping her chest. Something near her throat had turned to lead ice, and a cold pain shot angrily through her body. She gasped as she realized – the locket! It was – it was angry! She screamed again, sounding as if someone had been casting the Cruciatus Curse on her. She had said something terribly, terribly wrong-

She could barely stand, her knees were weak. She held on desperately to something next to her, as a faint dizziness pulsated from her heart. She heard herself screaming, as if from far away -

Draco had rushed to her side the moment she began to shriek. He held on to her arm, as she doubled over in pain, but he knew instantly what was wrong as she grasped her neck. He had known ever since she called him back to the wall, ever since he heard her call him with that cold, excited voice.

As he supported her from falling, his other hand reached around her neck, and felt the strong, cold, golden chain. It was heavy, like a lead weight. He pulled it with a great force, and off it came. He felt the sparkling, yellow gold of a locket pulsating against his hand. The pulsing ebbed away slowly, like an angry force calming down after it had separated from Hermione's body.

It was then that he realized that his other hand had let go of Granger. He looked down at his feet, and saw she had fainted on the rocks. Her pale arm was floating limply on the water, and her face was growing peaceful.

With a sudden horror, Draco realized he had been clutching the locket with a demonic possessiveness, and he could feel his heart darkening by its cold touch. Summoning all his strength, he threw the heavy locket as far as he could, but it landed only a few feet away, with a soft PLOP on the water as it sank slowly to the floor, glinting evilly.

His breathing came out in ragged gasps, as he supported himself on the rock wall. His mind was reeling. Suddenly, as if in a flash, he knew what it was.

A Horcrux.

There was a soul hidden in that locket. He could feel it.

That would explain why the strange glint of darkness in her eye disappeared every time he said her name.

"Granger," he whispered, looking down at her for the first time, and he watched as her face grew more peaceful as she heard her own name, she was sleeping deeply.

A couple hours later, Draco had dragged her roughly inside the cavernous room, and made sure she was still alive. Hermione awoke to see him towering over her, his face murderous.

"What the hell were you doing with that?" Draco roared, pointing to the glinting locket under the water.

She was in the dark cavernous room, lying on her back on a rough floor.

Hermione gasped, realizing what had just happened – Draco had found it. She mentally cursed herself for possibly losing the Horcrux for the third time.

She had just come to after her faint, and she had looked up to see him staring furiously down at her. Her head ached, and she had a trickle of blood running down her neck. "I don't know what you're talking about," she evaded nimbly, as best she could.

His expression darkened.

"Don't take me for an idiot, Granger," He said in a dangerous, low voice, "Just because I'm not wasting my curses on you, doesn't mean I won't hesitate to take you as prisoner to the Dark Lord." He spat maliciously. She trembled under his dangerous gaze.

"NOW, ANSWER ME!" He growled, sounding almost inhuman.

"I don't – I don't know," she managed, her voice shaking, "I found it on the ground. Snape dropped it, and – and I thought it might be useful." Hermione stammered, trying her best not to lie. Close your mind, Hermione, It's a Vault, He can't read your mind. He can't find your memories –

"So, you know too," He said softly, as if reading her mind, "you know what that is?" He asked, almost disbelieving, looking at her strangely.

Damn it, he's good at Legilimency too. Hermione made a final attempt to cover up, "I-I don't know –"

"Stop lying Mudblood, you're really bad at it," he said, annoyed, "so, YOU know you were just possessed by a Horcrux?"

She gasped, wild-eyed. "How do you know that word?"

"Again with the tone of surprise," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "If you haven't got the memo yet, I'm Draco Malfoy. The infamous Death Eater. Spawn of Minister Lucius Malfoy, the celebrated Mudblood Exterminator. Almost studied at Durmstrang, and knows more about the Dark Arts for his own good. You know, THE Draco Malfoy, the one that spends his free time apprenticing at Borgin and Burkes?" He said sarcastically, as if introducing himself.

She looked up at him, his face covered in the shadowy darkness of the cavernous room. There was silence for a few minutes. Hermione's mind raced frantically, as it was hit with the truth of who Draco really was. Would he take her to the Ministry – and give her up to the Death Eaters? What would happen to her wand?

Hermione asking quietly, "what are you going to do with me?"

He didn't answer.

He stepped back from the dim light, so that she couldn't see him at all, "HE made it, didn't he?" He asked, reasoning to himself, "That's what Potter's been looking for. All of the Dark Lord's treasures that he's making us protect, the reason the Dark Mark summoned us here to this Cave – it's because they're all Horcruxes?" His voice echoed, and he sounded almost … betrayed.

Hermione didn't say anything. She watched him carefully, trying hard to calm her breathing.

Draco's feet paced the floor, "No! It can't – he can't have – The Dark Lord's not like that, it's not his, it can't be …" He sounded so lost, so distraught.

Why would he be upset by this? Hermione thought curiously.

He continued pacing, and she could faintly see him, running his hands through his hair anxiously, "all the greatest treasures of England, ancient Arthurian relics, Imperial property of the Founders of Hogwarts - We thought he was preserving the great English Wizarding Legacy, advancing the Pureblood race - but … we're protecting them because – because - he's gone and stuck the ugly, little fragments of his soul in them?!" Draco sounded hysterical, furious.

Hermione breathed in relief; she had found her meal ticket; His ideology was crumbling before his eyes, if she just said the right things, she could escape from here alive. If she could manipulate him to her favor, he might even let her go himself. And a small part of her added, He might even come with you.

"What are you going to do with it?" She asked again, very quietly.

His wild, distraught eyes found hers, and they immediately cooled. "What like keep it for ransom? Defect from the Death Eaters? Or join Potter's little renegade fan club?" He said bitingly, "you wish, Mudblood."

She groaned. Just remember, Hermione, evil prats can never be manipulated to your favor.

Hermione got up quickly, feeling completely defeated, "You know what, Malfoy? Just get it over with. Why don't you summon your friends, and have yourself a nice little 'mudblood extermination' party." She brushed the tears from her eyes, "I've failed Dumbledore. I've failed Harry. I've lost the Locket for the third time. Go ahead, summon the Death Eaters. Kill me. I could care less now."

Draco subconsciously rolled down the sleeves of his arms, hiding the Dark Mark. "Since when'd you turn into Potter's obedient little suicide bomber?"

He gestured to the Locket, as she chuckled despite herself. He said slowly, "and you haven't failed those two clowns yet."

She said slowly, "What are you saying?"

"Once in a lifetime opportunity here, Granger, and it's not coming back." He said, "Let me spell it out for you; you're trapped in a Cave with THE Draco Malfoy, the only person apart from Mr. Burke and the Dark Lord himself, who could tell you all about the history and the spells inside that Locket over there; And I'm the only person, apart from Merlin himself and that Old Fool, who could tell you fifty different ways to kill a stinky little Horcrux while still preserving its canopic body. I'm sure you of all people wouldn't let such a valuable resource like me go to waste," He said, winking.

"What?" She asked, hoping to Merlin she was hearing him right.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm practically going to HELP you kill this Horcrux, and I'm going to tell you how to do it, so you can get out of here and kill the others, wherever that psychotic snake has stuffed them. But remember, if you, or anyone from Potter's fan club, even so much get one scratch on that Locket or any of the other relics with your muddy hands, I'm going to beat your bushy skull into your elbow."

"You really are quite the charmer," she couldn't help but smiling.

A dizzy happiness radiated from her; she hadn't felt this excited since when she first got her letter to Hogwarts. Everything, everything she had been trying to understand the last year – everything would be explained! Countless months she spent scouring the Library, barely finding anything – and now, here he was, the greatest book on Horcruxes, almost begging her to read him -

He broke in suddenly, "Another thing, Mudblood, I'm going to have to do a Memory Charm on you once you get out, so you won't remember me telling you all this, but you will still know how to kill Horcruxes," He smirked, "you're simply awful at Occlumency, you know that? You could get me in trouble. I can read you like a book-"

"NO! I don't want to forget you! I mean, all this – I mean … er …" She broke off, blushing furiously.

He smirked. "Well, you won't forget me," he said, mocking a lovers' whisper, as he pressed his cheek to hers dramatically, "We'll always have the Cave."

Suddenly, she gasped loudly, covering her mouth as a smile lit up her eyes, "Oh! I thought it was me!"

"What?" He asked confusedly.

"No, no," she explained happily, "you see, a while ago, when you were opening the Wall, I thought I was in love with you or something– but it was the Horcrux! I mean, er, well, I had strange feelings, that, er, could be interpreted as, er, something lusty …"

"Hoo hoo hoo!" He whistled, looking her up and down appreciatively, "Guess who's in love with whom?"

Hermione blustered angrily, though she was still reddening, "I just told you it wasn't me – It was the Locket! I was possessed! Who in their right mind would –"

He put his finger to his chin, pretending to think, "what was that again? Oh, yes!" He began to imitate her, "' You're in love with me. That's why you like to rescue me so much. Face it, you're in love. With Hermione Granger. And you can't get enough-"

"Shut up, Malfoy." She cut him off, forcing a serious look on her face. She turned abruptly on her heel as she strode purposefully back to the Horcrux.

He trailed behind her, still smirking like a schoolboy. "After this? Not bloody likely."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

**A Cursed Vow**

* * *

After carefully picking up the Locket from the water, Draco reverently set it atop a smooth, calcified crystal slab in the Chamber, at the feet of the Tomb. Hermione gasped as the slab suddenly glowed dully like opalescent jade when the glistening golden Locket was laid on it.

"Now what?" She asked, sounding breathless.

He walked back to the Chamber, and stepped inside, the sound of rocks crunching under his feet. Holding up his dimly-lit wand, Draco held it up to the walls, looking for something. "I can barely see here!" He complained.

Just then, Hermione's eyes lit up as she saw something. There were some ancient lanthorns on the circular wall of the vast Chamber, and she ran ahead of Draco, holding up her wand and lighting them with a spell. With a sudden whoosh of fire, the Chamber suddenly lit up in a warm, comforting light. Gladly, she could feel herself somewhat warmed by the light of the Lanthorns, and the golden ringlets of her hair shimmered in the flickering light. She turned to face him, smiling cockily. She could clearly see his muted face, lit up now and again by the slashes of light from the lanthorns. She found herself somewhat annoyed when he looked completely unimpressed with her discovery.

"Wow," she said, as she walked towards the statue of the woman, looking at her peaceful face, "she's really beautiful."

Draco walked behind her, "I don't know," he said, sounding confused, "she's not as beautiful as I thought she'd be. In fact ... " He said, tilting his head to the side, "she kind of looks like you. I don't think that was much of a compliment ... to her anyway"

Angrily, Hermione barely looked at him, as she stormed past him, knocking into his shoulder. She heard him chuckle behind her.

The chamber was darkly lit now, and she could clearly see the watery passeway through which they came. The warm, comforting light was a relief after the constant darkness they had been used to before. Neither Hermione nor Draco spoke. They intently watched the Locket, in pure silence. She suddenly noticed that there were sapphires studded to form an elaborate S in the middle of the Locket. She stood near the opening of the chamber, while he stood almost in the middle of the circular chamber, his back to her.

"What are you going to do?" She asked interestedly.

He turned to face her, his voice serious, "Do you trust me?"

Hermione looked up at him, at his sharp grey eyes. She breathed in sharply, and whispered, "Yes."

He searched her brown eyes, and smiled grimly. "Then stop talking." He turned his back to her again, "You're distracting me."

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest angrily, standing near the opening of the chamber, her back to the dark watery passageway. "I thought you were going to teach me how to destroy them. How do you expect me to learn when you won't say anything? And I asked you before, you didn't answer - Do you think Voldemort's been in here or not?"

He turned to look at her, annoyed, "I wouldn't be surprised if he did find this Chamber. It would symbolic for him, surviving after drowning. He's probably stuffed up some more Horcruxes here than anyplace else. God, that man is bloody annoying. Can't a man be a fascist Dictator without getting all sentimental about death?"

She grinned slightly.

"Now will you shut up, Granger?" He asked, sounding irritated, "And just listen! This is important!"

She furrowed her brows, trying to listen for something outside.

But the sound came from him. Suddenly, and slowly, Draco chanted in a strange, musical voice.

Hermione started, taken aback by his grim chant. The Locket began to tremble, clinking agitatedly against the crystal slab, and began to stir rhythmically to his song. A flash of blue light erupted from his wand, and burst from his fingertips.

Still chanting a strange verse, Draco swiftly raised his arms to the ceiling, the blue light from his fingers and his wand crawling all over the room, extinguishing the dim golden lights of the Lanthorns. She felt something pulling out of her, and she looked down, and saw a bright glowing ball of blue light burst from her chest and mistily join the other bursts of blue light in the room. There was even a small glimmer of blue light in the Locket.

The light began mistily circling him, faster and faster. His voice was becoming strained, and he fell to his knees, still chanting.

Hermione felt stifled by fear. The ground suddenly began rumbling. Feeling the rhythmic tremor through her shoes, Hermione stumbled backwards, holding on to the wall. She could hear the sound of grinding stone, and she suddenly saw hundreds of large stone Menhirs emerging from the floor. There were forming some sort of circular barrier around the opal slab, and they looked like giants. Then, as all of a sudden, a thought came to her, unbidden. The stones were alive. The ground rumbled thunderously again. There were great white flashes of light all around the Chamber, and doors appeared, much like in the Ministry of Magic, as they began to circle dizzily around the room.

The Locket began to thrash wildly, as if pulling away from some powerful force. Suddenly, Hermione's eyes caught sight of the Tiara on the sleeping statue. It began trembling violently just like the Locket. For the first time, Draco turned back to look at her, shock etched on his face as he saw the Tiara. Hermione gasped, as she realized it - it was a Horcrux too. Which meant Voldemort had been here.

Breathlessly, Hermione saw the misty ropes of blue light suddenly swooped down to the Locket and the Tiara from all corners of the room. A great burst of red light blinded her, and she turned her head away. She heard a deafening blast like an explosion, as the coiling ropes of light pried open the Locket with a great force. A great, wailing spirit burst from both the Horcruxes, and she looked on, horrified. The screaming spirit undulated n a flash of blinding green light, and Hermione saw, to her horror, the horrible red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

She turned her head away, clutching the stone walls, afraid to look. But she could still see the bright blue light through her closed eyes, and she opened them. She could barely see. The entire room was blue, except for a tiny smoke of red eyes in the middle. She blinked, her eyes watering against the light, and she saw Draco's hands were held up, the blue light bursting from his fingertips. She trembled slightly as she felt the overwhelming power that came in waves from his hands. In a second, his chant grew infinitely feverish, and a gigantic blue force rose out of him, so powerful, it pushed her on the floor, and the stones around Draco cracked.

It sounded like a crack of lightning, and felt like an earthquake. Her heart was racing in fear. Then, she heard it. The echo of a scream, Voldemort's soul screaming as he died – died the first of his thousand deaths. She looked up frantically. Before the green misty spirit of Voldemort was forced from the Horcruxes, it grew like a great thunderous cloud, and angrily pushed itself through Draco's body, before dissolving in the air like the fiery green sparks of fireworks.

Hermione lay her head back on the floor, looking tiredly up at the ceiling, the trembling of the ground slowly ebbing away.

She heard a hoarse voice, "think you can manage that?"

She felt herself laughing, and she sat upright, looking at him in between the stone slabs. It was dark again without the blue light.

"Does that usually happen when you destroy Horcruxes?" She said, pointing around her, which looked like a Tornado had blown through the Chamber.

He laughed gruffly, "Not really, no, since I've never done that before. It was Old Magic. I chanted an incantation - summoning the forces of good - of light. It's used to destroy evil; Horcruxes being the epitome of dark magic. Ironic, isn't it - that this Horcrux was destroyed in front of Ravenclaw's Tomb?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I can't believe I didn't realize it before," He said, coughing, "The Dark Lord had been reading ancient manuscripts to find a means to immortality. After he realized he could split his soul, he probably didn't read the text further. The easiest way to make a Horcrux is through love, believe it or not. When you can't bear to be away from someone, so upon your death, your soul goes to live with them. Ravenclaw was the first in a century to make one through love.," He said, gesturing at her sleeping statue, "Legend has it the Locket she gave Slytherin had in it a piece of her soul."

She bit her lip, trying hard to understand, "that book you were talking about, the one that Voldemort had read about Horcruxes- you've read it too?"

"Yes. It's in the Manor Archives. It's how he found it in the first place. My father has records dating back to the first century."

Hermione finished slowly, "So, the Locket, it was already a Horcrux before, but it was made with Love? But Voldemort only knew to make his Horcrux through pain and suffering ... Do you think her Horcrux survived - since the incantation only destroyed dark forces?" Draco was looking at her, smiling kindly. She'd never seen him smile like that at her, and she grinned back at him. Suddenly, a thought came to her. The power the Dark Lord knows not is Love. Harry's mother, she died for him, making a Horcrux through Old Magic, through love.

She met his eyes, and smiled, "I don't know, Malfoy, that looked quite complicated. Don't think I can manage all that myself. I guess I have no other choice but to take you back as captive. You're now the official Horcux Destroyer of the Order of the Phoenix."

"piss off and die, Granger, you'll never take me alive," he spat, and she chuckled, feeling elated at what had just happened. She could barely believe it. They had destroyed two Horcruxes!

Hermione was about to get up, when again, she felt a strange tremor in the ground. The water behind her sounded like it was churning. For the first time that night, Draco looked at her, his face ghostly white.

She furrowed her brows, and looked at him again. He was getting to his feet shakily, stumbling towards her, his wand out. He whispered hoarsely, "... Granger ... don't ... turn ... around ... "

For a second, Hermione thought he had lost his mind. But, suddenly, she felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck that sent a shiver down her back. Even through the dark, suddenly, she saw a shadow slowly cast from behind her. It was looming, getting larger and larger. Hermione's eyes flickered back to Draco's face, who was looking at something behind her, his wand held out.

Draco was speaking softly, soothingly, his voice almost a hiss, "... Nagini ... no ..."

Hermione screamed, scrambling to her feet. Suddenly, she felt a hot, piercing pain sear through her shoulder as Nagini sank her teeth into her. Draco yelled, shouting a few curses, as he grabbed Hermione's arm, and ran, dragging her with him. As they tore through the Chamber, Hermione turned around, for the first time, seeing the massive coiled Nagini twisting around the stones, chasing them furiously. Her heart nearly stopped as Draco grabbed Hermione by the arm and pushed her ahead of him through the thin doors that had appeared earlier, as he stayed back, throwing curses at Nagini. Hermione stumbled forward, as she slipped through the dark door.

Draco was running back, nimbly dodging the snake's thrusts. He suddenly leaped lightly over the statue, pocketing the Tiara and the Locket, and in a flash, ran swiftly back to her, slipping in between the door just in time. Hermione groped for his hands, and he was just behind her. She edged forward as fast as she could, but it was narrow, and the ground was uneven. Draco stumbled behind her, and they stopped, realizing Nagini couldn't reach through the narrow passage.

She heard him next to her, breathing loudly. The snake was bashing its head against the opening, trying to force open the passageway. Hermione screamed everytime the snake broke through the rocks. It kept rearing its head, striking quickly, nearly missing Draco. Hermione pulled him back quickly just in time.

He turned to face her, looking her steadily in the eye, "Listen, Granger," He said loudly, between the loud sounds of rocks crashing around them, "I think this passageway leads out," He pointed to the ground, where a small frothy trickle of water was flowing past them, "it has to lead to the sea," He pushed her further into the cramped passageway, "wait for me."

"No, Draco! Don't!" Hermione screamed, but he ignored her, as he sinuously pulled out a thin vial of Basilisk Venom from his pockets, unseen by Nagini, and walked back to the snake, holding out his arm. He stepped forward, practically sacrificing himself. "NO!" Hermione felt herself scream again and again, as Nagini reared her large head, and came down with an angry force, biting down on Draco's arm. Hermione couldn't hear Draco's cries of pain through her own screaming. Then, in a second, Nagini's eyes rolled back, her tail slumped to the floor, and finally, her head collapsed, pulling Draco down.

Hermione flew to his side, frantically trying to pry open the snake's mouth, trying to pull his arm out. Blood was seeping between the snake's fangs, and Hermione finally managed to pull his hand out of the beast's mouth. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his hair was plastered against his face. Hermione was crying over him, tapping his face so he'd open his eyes to look at her. "Draco?" She cried over and over, and finally, his eyes opened weakly. She kissed his cheek in joy.

Suddenly, Hermione thought she heard a swishing noise. She looked up, listening. Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw Nagini's tail slithering, and saw that the snake was watching her, its yellow eyes barely open.

Draco yelled something next to her, scrambling to his feet.

Shrieking, Hermione took Draco's bleeding arm and threw it over her shoulder, and ignoring his shouts of pain, she struggled through the passageway, squeezing herself through the rocks that tore at her skin. Finally, the passageway widened into a gaping darkness, and Hermione didn't care as she ran as fast as she could, carrying Draco with her. She heard the snake make one final lunge at the door, and heard the rocks crumbling and the snake slithering close to her feet.

Draco held out his arm protectively between Hermione and Nagini as it f reared its head again for an attack. Hermione groped the walls, and suddenly, found a crevice, pulling Draco into it just in time as the snake brought down its deadly fangs. They crawled through the tiny crevice, which was half-filled with sea water, until finally, they came up into another massive antechamber.

She was breathing hard, and she held a hand to her chest, her heart was racing. She turned to look at him, there was a small light in this chamber, and the sounds of the snake behind them were muffled. She almost screamed again as she saw the state of Draco. He was leaning against the wall, his knuckles were white as he tightly gripped his bleeding arm. His face was gray with pain.

She let out a sob, and she didn't know why; why she suddenly felt so afraid to lose him, as she threw her arms around his neck.

She felt him muffle something against her shoulder. "Granger," he muffled, struggling to find the familiar contempt but his voice was soft, "you're choking me."

She pulled back. She sought his eyes. His gray eyes were tired, and he looked weak.

"We've got to get out of here," He said, his voice hoarse, "It won't take Nagini long to get here. We don't have much time."

She felt like she had to keep talking, she had to tell him everything. "I - I - um … Malfoy?" She asked, and he looked at her, "I don't know. I don't know why you helped me - why you rescued me. Why you didn't kill Dumbledore. All this time, I didn't know you - come to think of it, I don't think I'll ever understand you." His eyes softened slightly, "You're so ... so difficult. So ... dangerous and yet you're ... you're still Draco." She smiled, feeling completely out of her mind, "whatever your reasons, I feel like I was meant to come here, I was meant to get stuck here in this Cave, with you of all people," she said hastily, "and even if you blacked my eye, and almost tortured me, and called me despicable things at every corner-"

"-Don't forget you tried to drown me, gave me fucking boils on my face, and you were a general pain in the arse-" Draco said weakly, his eyes closed.

"WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY," Hermione said, her voice rising, "is that there's something bigger than us. Or maybe we're bigger than it. I – I don't know, we're supposed to hate each other. We do hate each other. We're from warring houses. You're Slytherin. I'm Gryffindor-"

"It would never work in a million years," Draco finished mechanically.

Hermione was quiet. "But it did work. For them at least." She looked at the Locket, remembering the sleeping statue, "They fought each other in Hogwarts. But they loved each other even beyond death."

"If that's what you call success, Granger, you've got one messed up view of romance -"

She looked up at him, and her eyes met his. She bit her lip, "What I wanted to say is that after all this, I - I – I don't think I hate you."

He chuckled weakly, "I don't hate you either." Draco was looking at her, like he didn't know what to do. He looked so drained, as if the Horcrux, after passing through his body, had taken some of his life with it.

He studied her for a moment. "I can't believe you Granger, saying your goodbyes already? I thought you Gryffindors had more courage than that." He swallowed hard, and brought his hand to touch a strand of her hair. She leaned into his hand, her eyes tearful.

"I don't think I have enough time," Draco reached for all the vials of Basilisk venom he had collected, before pushing them into her hands, "this'll be enough for the rest of the Horcruxes. Tell Potter to die a nasty, painful death. He deserves it more than I do."

"Don't," she said angrily, tears in her eyes again, as she tried to give the vials back, "you'll come with me! I can't go – not without you-"

He smiled grimly, pointing to his bleeding arm, "not bloody likely, Granger."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said, pacing around, her voice breaking as she tried to sound strong, "you're going to make it if I have to drag you out of here myself." She was looking wildly around for an escape. Suddenly, she saw something, and she blinked twice to make sure she wasn't imagining it. In the dark, glimmering in the waves of the sea water, there was a marble statue, tall from floor to ceiling, almost hidden in the crevices of the wall - a face of a woman with wild hair. Her mouth was parted, and there was a dark gaping chasm between her lips.

"Do you see that?" She asked in a whisper, pointing at it, praying fervently she wasn't dreaming. "Have you ever something like that before?"

He lifted his head heavily, and looked in the direction she was pointing. "What is that?" He asked, his voice full of wonder.

"I think ... this is the Mouth of Truth," Hermione said, stumbling forward in the darkness, as she walked towards it, as if in a hypnotic trance. Draco followed her.

"What?" He asked curiously.

"You - you make a promise and it -" Suddenly, Hermione turned around wildly, "Draco," she cried excitedly, "this is the way out! We just have to promise - promise something to the statue, something we treasure more than anything else, and it will open like a gate!"

Draco hesitated for a moment, but walked straight for the statue, looking slightly stronger, "I swear I'm going to regret this moment for the rest of my life ... I promise ... " He hesitated, trying to think of something very precious to him, "I promise ..."

Hermione looked thoughtful herself, and she couldn't help thinking of Ron. "I promise I love Ron more than anything else in the world," she said happily, sticking her hand in the mouth confidently. She turned around waiting for Draco.

Draco didn't say anything, trying to think of something he treasured more than anything in the world. He had a memory of kissing Pansy after the Yule Ball, but it didn't mean anything to him. "Damn it, Granger ... I can't think of anything!"

"Well, try! There must be something!" Hermione pleaded, worried that the gate would not let him pass.

He turned to face her, as she studied him curiously, "Listen, Granger, this is useless. I'm going to die anyway. I can't do this."

"No!" She cried, tears clouding her eyes, her hands still between the mouth of the statue, "Damn it, Malfoy, I can't leave without you!"

In that instant, a sudden insanity seemed to take over Draco. His eyes sharpened, everything in the room seemed to burst into bright color. He saw her clearly for the first time, and he suddenly found a strange purpose. He knew he was going to die, and suddenly, it seemed his heart opened for him. He looked at her, touching her hair, sending shivers down her spine. His voice low, he said roughly, "Kiss me."

Hermione thought she was hearing things. "What? Why?" She blustered, in a near whisper, her face growing terribly hot. She looked him curiously, thinking Nagini might have infected him with some hallucinogenic venom.

He leaned into her, a sharp intensity in his gray eyes. He looked down at her lips, mere inches from his own, and his skin touched hers briefly, suddenly making her skin blaze with an electric current. He leaned in closer, feeling her ragged breath on his lips. She closed her eyes, unable to stop the well of feeling bursting through her.

Still looking at her intensely, his fingers dropped to lightly graze her shoulder with a soft hand, letting it fall down her arm, sending another shock wave down her spine. His hand lingered lightly on her elbow, everything just barely a touch. Finally, his hand trailed down to hers, which was resting on the mouth of the statue. He held her hand tightly, touching all her fingers, making her gasp in pleasure.

Looking down at her closed eyes, Draco whispered again, making a lock of her hair flutter, "Kiss me."

She opened her eyes slowly, painfully, to see if he was really there. As their eyes met, Hermione felt the same insanity, the same urgent desire to press herself against him. She leaned in, closing the small distance between their lips, her heart beating erratically, her lungs filling quickly with a nervous breath. He felt her lips against his, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before gently kissing her back. He held her hand tightly, and both of their wrists were entwined together between the gaping chasm of the statue's parted mouth.

Draco was kissing her passionately, and suddenly, he seemed stronger, as he leaned into her. It was like something was healing him. Some strange magic was pushing them together, like they were joined magnetically. Suddenly, all around, like little faerie lights, small bursts of blue embers ignited around them. The Locket Draco held in his hand glimmered gently, a strong sapphire blue, and the marble of the statue glowed silvery white. A great misty cloud rose from the Tiara like the ghost of a man. He had a dark, brooding face, and he wore heavy medieval armor emblazoned with a serpent. He was carrying a spear dipped in venom. After him, the ethereal ghostly figure of the beautiful woman, rising from the Locket, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, carrying a ancient book in her arms, rose up. They dissolved together into a mist around the statue's mouth.

Red, silver, and green sparks burst around them, circling them, though they didn't seem to notice anything around them. It was like some great magic wouldn't let them pull apart. A howling wind began out of nowhere. It moved around the room frantically, and Hermione's hair was flying. There were great ripples on Draco's shirt, as the wind grew stronger and stronger. But they never stopped kissing.

Suddenly, a slicing pain shot through her hand. She felt like screaming through the searing pain. It was then, that Draco and Hermione pulled apart. She pulled away from him, and saw that the mouth of the statue had closed over their hands. It felt like the statue was drinking their blood, and, a moment later, the marble mouth was stained red, and the eyes of the statue glimmered violently.

Her heart pounded heavily. Was this a cursed statue? What had they done?

She looked at him in horror, but just then, the statue began to crumble away, and the mouth parted, releasing their clasped hands. They pulled their hands back, and she saw, just at their wrists, there was a wide circular band of blood. She looked wildly around, the antechamber they were standing in was falling in on itself, much like before. If she wasn't sure before, Hermione was certain now that Voldemort's snake had finally been destroyed in the avalanche now.

Hermione dizzily looked around, and thought she was seeing things, but seeing Draco's startled eyes look around the room made her realize it was really happening. They were surrounded by small bursts of colored embers, and something had changed. There, where the giant ominous statue of a woman's face had once stood, a gate had suddenly opened.

She glanced down at their bleeding hands, with their crimson marks, and her eyes met his.

The rushing of the sea greeted their ears, and they turned to see an orange sun rise over the horizon, a wild sea wind blustering wildly around them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Rowena and Salazar have a bigger part to play in their love story, near the end. Guess? I found it funny myself that Rowena's statue had her holding a book. Wink wink.

The fact that Hermione thought of Ron as the one important thing in her life, and Draco thought of kissing Pansy means something big. In the end, they realize that they were supposed to promise something they treasured to the statue. They realize too late that they sacrificed their love for Ron and Pansy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: **

**I Guess This is Goodbye**

* * *

Draco blinked back the sunlight gashing his cornea. He groaned, shielding his eyes from the bright morning sun. How long had it been since he'd seen proper daylight? How long had they been trapped?

It felt like the night before was a dream, and he was just waking up. The cave around them looked nearly normal. There was only a small burst here and there of twinkling lights now. But those feelings he felt, that strange euphoria, and that sense of calm when he was touched her, was that all real? No, of course not. Get a grip, Draco.

"I can't believe it!" A chirrupy voice squealed next to ear, "We're free! Free at last!"

Draco stopped still. It came crashing down to him like a ton of bricks who owned that chirrupy voice next to him.

Not good.

Oh Merlin! He raked his hands through his hair. It was Granger! Hermione. Bloody. Jane. Granger. What the hell had happened here?

He tried to calm down. He knew what it was. It seemed his love-starved pleasure dome had taken control of his brain: it had gone ahead and fired all shred of dignity, his lovely prejudiced upbringing, and his mudblood phobia just so it could satisfy a craving for female flesh. That's what it was. He wasn't attracted to Granger at all, he had simply been lonely. Yes, that's it.

Which reminded him. If that's the case, and lest those beloved Malfoy traits be thrown to the wind again, Draco forbade himself never to get caved in with the following people on pain of death, since they repulsed him just as much as Granger: any of those Weasley urchins, Jugson, Fudge (he was too chatty with Draco), Filch, Snape, Potter, Eloise Midgen, The Dark Lord, Blaise Zabini (for reasons best kept to himself), and Daphne Greengrass's sister (she was pretty, but pushy. She'd probably want to raise a cave family as soon as possible).

So he was free, like Granger had squealed happily. He wasn't trapped in a Cave with her anymore; he didn't have to eat her conjured crusty bread and water for the rest of his life. Thank Merlin for that. He suddenly remembered his life before; he had a Dark Order meeting that Saturday, and he had to pass in a report to Yaxley in the Ministry. His entire life came crashing back to him, the expectations, and the facades. And a small part of Draco almost dreaded it. Well, good thing that it was just a very small part of him.

Suddenly aware of Granger still near him, Draco tried his best to artfully disengage himself from her presence and run. Run like hell. He'd fly from her muddy clutches if Snape or the Dark Lord had the bloody time to teach him. Draco turned his back to her, avoiding her eye, and scouring his brain for a swollen lips concealment charm.

Great. He could feel the back of his neck grow hot. She was staring at him now. Giving him one of her sanctimonious x-ray scans. "Is something wrong, Malfoy? Are you all right?"

He wondered admiringly how he had put up with her nagging voice all this time. She sounded like she was taking liberties with their relationship, like she assumed there was some understanding between after they had ... pressed lips. She was sounding way too familiar for his liking.

"DOES I LOOKS LIKE I AM BEING BLOODY ALL RIGHT?" He spat, spit hitting her in the eye. He tended to break into House-Elf like his wet-nurse Dobby when he got really upset. "I is hungry, I is dirty, and I was this close to sweeping the chimney with a repulsive owl!" He stared daggers at her angrily, as if she was the cause of all his misery.

SLAP!

A hard stinging handprint burned his cheek. He didn't want to admit it, but he needed that.

"Get a hold of yourself, Malfoy! What's wrong with you?" Hermione said forcefully.

GAH! Even her slaps were sympathetic now. This was practically scandalous for a Death Eater to associate so closely with a mudblood / traitor/ outlaw / wildebeest. Whatever would they say at work?

"Shut up, Mudblood!" He hoped he sounded businesslike and rude, but he felt he didn't quite make the mark, "There's nothing between us! I don't know you! I was desperate! I would've kissed anybody!"

He wiped his mouth roughly, "And I've probably got Scurvy now or something - whatever diseases you've caught from running around with Potter's Band of Merry Men all over Britain! Well, let me tell you something, which you can pass on to Potter," he said, leaning in for a sniff of her hair, "it's not very noble and heroic to forget to wash!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" Hermione shrieked, "YOU'RE SO INFURIATING!" She was standing over him, her cheeks red with fury, and she was wringing her hands. There was an orange glint shimmering in her hair, and her brown eyes were dancing -

Malfoy, Get. A. Grip. Fight it, Granger's the devil.

"All this time, you were using me?" She said furiously. "You - you were pretending you were dying, just so you could force yourself on me, so you could make a fool of me?"

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there." Draco got to his feet, "Let's get this straight. I was dying. And I was healed by - by something. And anyway, you were kissing me too. It's not like I was the only one back there enjoying myself."

He smirked at her blush.

"Oho, does the Great Draco Malfoy not know what happened?" Hermione said, her voice harsh and derisive, "the one who got off explaining everything to me, know-it-all Granger?"

Draco gasped, scandalized, as he searched her eyes. "You pretended you didn't know all that stuff, didn't you? When I was explaining about the Venom - and - and - the Horcruxes! You were trying to stroke my ego - among other things. Nice chatting up technique, Granger, playing dumb." Draco crossed his arms angrily.

"Well, it worked, didn't it? I got what I wanted." Hermione smirked evilly. She turned on her heel, and stormed past the remnants of the statue around them, and almost sprinted out of his sight.

What. An. Unbelievable. Twat.

"Fuck off, Granger!" Draco yelled to her retreating back, outlined darkly against the bright morning sun.

He made to follow her, hoping to catch her before she apparated, but then he suddenly remembered the night before.

The cave looked so different. The magic from last night wasn't completely dead, it was just ... quieter. He walked back to the statue, his steps echoing loudly. He looked at the crumbled rocks, at the traces of blood on the floor. He stopped, turning his hand over, wiping the blood on his shirt. A small glimmer of emerald and gold near his feet caught his attention. In a swift motion, he picked the Locket and the Tiara up and pocketed them.

He didn't waste time getting out. The fresh warm sea breeze blew his hair out of his eyes, and it contrasted with the icy coldness of the Cave. It was summer, after all.

Skipping nimbly over the rocky edge, he looked about for a safe place to apparate. He would never admit it, but a part of him excitedly hoped she hadn't left yet.

There was no trace of her.

She's probably having a threesome with Potter and Weasley right now. Draco thought grumpily.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Draco's head shot up as he heard her voice from behind him, "Can I ask you something?" Her voice was nervous.

He grinned, walking to her, "What? Wanted another go on the Malfoy Express?"

She made a face. "You're disgusting." She shook her head, "no, actually," she bit her lip, "you're not going to tell them, are you?"

"Listen," Draco grunted, "the less people know about this, the better. Believe you me, I'm not exactly thrilled for everyone to find out I snogged you of all people. Imagine the desperation I must've -"

"But, what about him?" She asked nervously, ignoring his insults, "Can't he use Legilimency? And Snape, isn't he advanced in it too?"

He walked very close to her, looking down deeply into her face. "You're safe, Hermione." He said seriously. "Now buzz off."

Her face softened, and it looked like she was trying to suppress a smile, "I always knew you weren't a bastard."

Draco looked murderous, "If you don't shut up about how wonderful I am and get out soon, I'm going to take out an ad in the Daily Prophet - Draco Malfoy's harrowing tale - snogging a Wildebeest and living to tell the tale."

She threw up her hands, "I'm going! I'm going! ... wanker."

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket. He pushed the Tiara into her hands.

"What's this?" She asked surprised.

"Don't wear it!" He said hastily, "You know what that is. What he's done to it. Don't tell me you forgot. We don't know if it's completely destroyed yet. You know what to do, mudblood." He said seriously, "Every last drop of the venom, if you have to. And don't forget, bring all of them back intact. Or I'm killing you. Slowly."

"What do we do now? The both of us?" She asked, looking up at him innocently.

He put his hands in his pockets, trying hard to bite back the strange rush of feeling that swept over him, "We go back. Pick up our lives where we left off," He breathed in deeply as he shrugged, "there's nothing left to do." He paused, his throat suddenly dry, "I guess this is goodbye, Granger. It's amazing we haven't killed each other."

She nodded resolutely, remembering the graver memories of the last few days. She glided her fingers across the hand-chased stones of the Tiara, smiling to herself, "so, I suppose this is something to remember you by?"

He laughed softly, despite himself.

She smiled up at him, pulling something out of her pocket. "I thought Harry might want this, but this clearly belongs to you." She held out the golden Locket in front of her, "look, it even has your name on it." She traced her hand across the S shape, "S for Soulless Villain."

He pushed it back towards her, "no, I'm quite sure this is yours. See, the S actually stands for Scurvy Politician." He smirked, putting it around her neck, since it was safe now again.

"What?" She asked, peering down at the locket, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips, "That doesn't make any sense! Why am I a scurvy politician?"

He bit his lip, "I can see you there. One day, at the Ministry." He looked up the sky, "Obviously not now. The only way you'd be allowed at the Ministry is if you came in for Muggleborn Registration, and I really wouldn't advise that, Granger, you see, Jugson there, he gives very thorough physical exams." He caught her eye, "Well, it's just I see you as some sort of legislator for the Ministry or a lawyer. Clacking down the hallways, bossily ordering people around, doing everyone's work for them. You know, swotty know-it-all Granger all grown up." He smirked grimly, "you'd do well there. Spreading your scurvy and all that. Hunting Death Eaters like me."

She playfully slapped his arm, grinning as if she'd never thought about that, "Don't tell me you've turned Seer, too? There's a lot people predicting strange things nowadays!"

He looked grimly into the sun, "That's what war does to you."

They didn't say anything more. Hermione wiped her eye roughly, and Draco looked away. The last things he remembered was her smiling down at the Locket, absentmindedly touching it before looking up, trying to catch his eye.

Draco Malfoy never did well with Goodbyes. He didn't look at her. He didn't even watch her leave. He stood aloof, kicking stones into the swirling sea below, until he heard the heavy POP! of her apparating.

With heavy feet, he sighed heavily, made to apparate on the spot she had just stood. No more crazy adventures with a slightly maniacal, somewhat attractive swot of a Gryffindor.

Draco Malfoy was going back to his world: back to Hogwarts for the Dark Order meetings, back to the Ministry for some good old fashioned espionage; back to Malfoy Manor where they housed the lower ranks of the Dark Order. Back to the drudgery of a predictable common life.

Common, that is, for one of the most despised Death Eaters that ever lived.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** **One Year Later.** In which a year later, a letter arrives for Draco Malfoy from someone he never thought he'd hear from again. Trouble is brewing, and their story is just getting started!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: **

**The Curse Begins**

* * *

Lying in bed, Hermione turned heavily on her side and tucked her hand under her pillow. Her blank eyes looked past the moth-eaten curtains to the starry sky outside the window. It was a cool summer night. For some reason she didn't fully understand, she craved that overwhelming darkness. It soothed her, and made her feel strangely elated as if she remembered it from some distant memory.

Her tired eyes flickered from the window to the dark red potion on her side table, labeled in a scrolling script, "Draught of Dreamless Sleep." It was half empty, and there was a little spoon beside the glass potion bottle. She couldn't remember for how long she had needed that potion, and for how long she had been having those nightmares. It started a few months ago, and began to worsen and get clearer each night. They came to her, stifling her in her sleep, visions of things she knew she had never seen before but things she feared that were actually happening somewhere far away. And always, always she would see him in her nightmares - his gray eyes and pale blond hair the last thing she saw before she sat up in bed, screaming.

A sound of rustling bed sheets and creaking bed frames startled her. She turned her head to see that it was just Ginny tossing in her sleep, so Hermione slowly relaxed against her wild thoughts again. With another glance at the dark red potion, she boldly decided she wouldn't take the potion again tonight. Her nightmares were terrifying, but they were strangely addictive. The things she saw - she knew they were real. They had to be. Hermione breathed in sharply. It was careless. It was reckless. Harry would be so disappointed in her if he knew what she was doing. But she had to see his face … just one more time.

A small voice mumbled incoherently beside her. "Go to sleep, Hermione," Ginny murmured, before burying her face in her pillow.

Hermione breathed in deeply. Ginny was right – she had to sleep, she felt exhausted. She pulled the covers up, and snuggled against her warm bed. She refused to take that powerful sleeping potion anymore. Trying not to think anything at all always calmed her enough into sleep. Her eyes lazily watched the moth-eaten lace curtains, fluttering in the warm summer air from the open window. Her breathing deepened – the sight of the fluttering curtains was nearly hypnotic.

By now, she almost always knew when she was started dreaming. Swirling, hazy visions blew across her eyes, until finally it rested on one. She was standing in a dark dungeon next to a man, who was much taller than her. A cold laugh came from behind her, taunting and delightful. Someone else was cackling next to her ear. Hermione felt beads of sweat all over her face, she felt like her heart would explode from pain. She looked down at the grimy floor, watching someone twisting on the ground, screaming. Her heart thudded wildly against her heart, but somehow she was strong enough to calm herself, to keep herself from yelling for help. The man standing next to her slowly lifted his wand, ending the curse – the screaming stopped, but the frenzied echoing of the screams around the dungeon did not cease. The man standing next to her - his hands were shaking slightly. She tried to look up into his face, but she couldn't. Her eyes fell on the white-haired old man in front of her, who was deathly still.

"It's done," The man standing next to her said in a low throaty voice – and roars of cheering went up all around the dungeon. Hermione looked wildly around at the hooded people around her. It felt like she was the only one who could hear the despair in his voice when all the others heard triumph and courage from his two words.

Suddenly, the hair on her neck prickled, and she stopped moving out of fear. She felt someone gliding next to her, laughing coldly. "You shall take his place, Draco," The cold voice said, "Now, stand on his corpse as I grant you the Death Mark." He touched the old man's face with his feet, "The slippery fool has proven most useful to me only in death."

Suddenly, she felt herself dissolve into the man standing next to her. Sycophantic laughter filled her ears, and she felt she would go mad from shock and anger. What had she done? She had killed her own father. And her mother was next. But the Dark Lord was searching her mind now; she had to close her anger from his probing red eyes.

"You have proven yourself," the Dark Lord whispered in her ear, "You are now … my most faithful servant."

Hermione stared at the cold stone ground, saying nothing. The cackling laughter of Bellatrix turned to a whimper of confusion at the change in ranks. The Dark Lord laughed at her, "You doubt him, Bellatrix? You don't think him deserving of the Death Mark - the highest honor of any Death Eater?" He laughed again coldly, "You doubt his faithfulness? No one of my Death Eaters but he has tortured and murdered a father for his great and noble master. It has been foretold that he will even more useful as the next year wears on. You will see. He shall bring to my feet our greatest traitors. Harry Potter will be mine … He will not disappoint me. Never doubt my judgment again, Bellatrix, because no matter how he has wavered in the past, Draco will obey me - for I have kept something very precious to him to ensure his … loyalty."

The laughter around her screeched painfully. Hermione felt herself standing next to him once again in her own body. She finally saw his face; his gray eyes were tortured and pained. He looked hopeless, helpless as he walked to his father's body. Hermione couldn't watch him take the Death Mark over his father's corpse. Suddenly, like the end to all her nightmares before, Draco's gray eyes caught hers as if he could really feel her there. For the first time, he almost willed her to leave, telling her not to come back and see anymore of what was happening to him.

She closed her eyes, and forced herself away from the room, feeling a suffocating fear for him as felt him disappear into a swirling gray mist.

Gasping, Hermione sat up in bed. She looked around and saw the faint moonlight stream through the window in her room at Grimmauld Place. Crickets were heartily chirping outside, and Ginny was mumbling softly in her sleep. But her dream - it was all so real. She knew that what she saw was real. It was haunting her – all these nightmarish memories that belonged to someone else. Why was she seeing them? Why did it get clearer and more terrifying each passing night? The panic of not knowing what was happening to her mind chilled her bones. Was she going crazy?

Still panting from fear, Hermione determinedly pushed off the covers and padded to an old dresser across the room. Turning her head carefully to make sure Ginny was still asleep, she pulled the gold handles and the drawer creaked open. Pushing aside the soft neatly-folded clothes, she pulled out a familiar gold chain. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the heavy gold locket against her skin. It felt almost like it was calling to her. A wave of relief swept past her. After every nightmare, holding the locket close to her was the only thing that brought her any peace.

Lighting a melted wick on a brass candleholder, Hermione held up the soft candle light as she walked in front of a gilded mirror. She stared at her reflection in the grimy glass. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her bushy hair was held back from her face, falling in loose curls over her periwinkle nightgown gathered delicately at the shoulders. As if in a trace, she peered in the mirror, tying the golden chain around her neck and holding the heavy locket in her hands, watching it shimmer in the glass. Mesmerized, she traced her finger against the S made by the glittering sapphire stones. Before the Horcrux in it was destroyed, all she could feel was a cold despair coursing through the chilled gold. But now, she could feel strange warmth from it, a sort of hopefulness that she would see him again. She wondered if it was actually her feeling those strange emotions, or if Hermione could sense in the locket Rowena's soul's longing for Slytherin.

Frustrated, she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling so overwhelmed by confusion. She didn't know what was happening to her – but she knew it was something bad, something dangerous. She was afraid she was possessed.

Seeing things was never a good sign, even in the Wizarding World.

Against all reason, she wondered if the both of them were cursed by some evil force in the Cave - and that was why she could see his darkest moments.

She wondered if she should confide in Harry and Ron, but a strange panic of guilt for burdening them with too much stopped her dead. She couldn't let them worry about her now when they had gone together to hunt the rest of the Horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows. She understood when Harry said he needed Ron with him, and he needed her and Ginny safe, away from all the danger. She'd never forgive Harry for that, of course, but she understood him. Days of moping around Headquarters turned into dreary months of waiting, until her nightmares of Draco began to keep her company in the isolating house. Before long, they became her single-minded pursuit – her obsession. She had to keep seeing more. She had sometimes feigned sleep midday, trying hard to catch one more fleeting glimpse of his face. Terrifying and addictive, she couldn't resist it.

And now, suddenly, she felt a strange fear that something terrible was about to happen to him. A choking panic bubbled up inside her that that what she saw tonight was something that was going to happen. In the dusty mirror, she saw her eyes widen in fear even as she tried to force that feeling of dread back into her mind. She sucked in breath sharply. There was no time to waste thinking anymore – she had to warn him somehow.

Feeling slightly reckless, Hermione picked up the brass candleholder, and tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Stepping outside, she walked swiftly down the dark corridor and treaded softly upstairs, finding herself in an abandoned room on the third floor. She wiped the hazy clouds of cobwebs she had charmed on the doorframe and walked inside. Walking less consciously than before, she quickly placed the candleholder on a table. Pulling out a roll of parchment from a desk in the middle of the room, she nervously dipped a quill in a nearly-dried bottle of ink, finally writing the letter she had wanted to send for months. It was hard to write anything at first, until she remembered how she always talked to him - always eager to confuse and bother him with a mix of casual teasing with a well-hidden layer of self-righteous concern.

To My Twitchy Little Ferret,

I don't know what's been happening to me lately and while I'm trying to sort it all out, I think you deserve to know some of it. I can't tell you anything in the letter in case it gets intercepted. Meet me tomorrow in the Hogs Head at noon. You'll know it's me writing this because I know that you once sought solace in the arms of a ghostly little girl. I'm sure you've tried to make sure that doesn't get around often.

From Your Very Concerned Friend

Hermione read it over, ensuring it was cryptic enough for spies but not for him. She fought off the urge to laugh at the lightheartedness of the letter despite its grim nature. She walked downstairs, where Errol was asleep in his cage. Poking him gently with a finger, she opened the door and stuck the note inside.

"Errol, Can you give this to Draco Malfoy?" She asked quietly, making sure Mrs. Black's portrait didn't hear her, "And make sure no one but him reads it."

Hooting sleepily, Errol bounced out the cage, following Hermione as she opened the front door. He paused a bit at the doorstep to shake himself awake before flying off brightly into the night sky. Sighing, she walked back upstairs thinking she could try to sleep a little more. She entered her bedroom, closing the door softly, creeping slowly back to her bed. She climbed back inside the soft sheets, and blew out the candle, engulfing the room in darkness. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep, finding that sending that letter to Malfoy eased a bit of the strange aching in her heart. Staring blankly at the melting candle on her side table, Hermione wondered if he was all right. If all the nightmares she had seen of him this last few months were really happening to him. She felt herself fall into an uneasy stupor. She hadn't closed her eyes for nearly an hour before she heard something fly in through the window.

Hermione jumped up out of bed, seeing Errol get caught in the curtains, struggling until she helped him. He hooted happily, and she knew that he had delivered it to Draco. But checking his talons, she saw it was empty.

No reply.

Sighing miserably, she sat back on the bed, petting Errol, thinking that it was stupid to expect him to reply as quickly as Ron or Harry. She was just about to miserably settle back into bed, when -

All of a sudden, she saw another feathery owl flying to her, sitting reserved and formal at the windowsill. She jumped up, walking nervously over to it – it was a large Eagle Owl – his owl. Feeling a burst of excitement, she reached for the talons, seeing a small letter clutched in its grasp. She touched the taut letter gently, raising her eyebrows incredulously at her own strange delight on feeling it. Ripping it hastily, she pulled out the arrogantly beautiful parchment written in a neat scroll in shining black ink. Breathing in deeply, she read:

To My Favorite Dung-Brained Otter,

Really witty. Any plans to write for The Prophet? Don't send your owl anymore - It's too stupid. And I honestly can't believe it took you this long to figure out what's been happening. You'll know it's me writing this because I have it from my ghostly source that you once slept with a signed picture of Lockhart under your pillow. Oh, and she informed me you always took unnaturally long baths in the Prefects' Bathroom. I bet that isn't common knowledge. Give my regards to the wonder league.

And make it one-thirty.

Hermione couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. If a piece of parchment could smirk at her, dripping wet with an infuriating arrogance, that one would. What did he mean by that - "I can't believe it took you this long to figure out what's happening" - was there something he knew? Did he know she could see him in her visions? That wasn't what bothered her now. She couldn't believe Myrtle had spied on her in the Prefects' Bathroom!

She swallowed thickly, reading it again. So she would be meeting him tomorrow. At one-thirty. It would be nearly a year since she last saw him. She would warn him about the visions she had seen and maybe distract herself from that ominous fear that something terrible could happen to him soon. Trying not to be so morose, she wondered how he would look, if he looked as grave as he did in her nightmares. In her visions, his eyes were most different – dull and melancholic without the familiar contempt flashing in his eyes. Perhaps his contempt and sneers were reserved only for her. How romantic. Wait a minute, did she just think that Draco was romantic? She shook her head irritatedly. Trying to concentrate on a familiar picture of a grinning lanky redhead with a smattering of freckles, Hermione steered her rebellious mind away from Malfoy as best she could.

"Uh ... Is that Malfoy's owl?" Ginny asked sleepily behind her. Hermione jumped nearly three feet in the air, her heart thundering erratically at the sudden noise. She turned around – Ginny was climbing out of bed, knitting her eyebrows confusedly. Looking back at the proud Eagle Owl on her windowsill, Hermione searched for an answer, trying to lie but she couldn't find the strength.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ginny's voice was sharp, and her hands were across her chest, making her look like a scarier Mrs. Weasley. "You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll understand."

Hermione breathed out heavily. If there was anyone she could trust about this, it would be Ginny. She tried to find her voice, readying herself to tell that story she had kept painfully to herself for the last year. Everything that had been tormenting her – the memories of Draco destroying the Horcruxes – the statue of Ravenclaw – the vow in front of the Mouth of Truth – the ghosts of Salazar and Rowena that burst through them from the locket after they kissed – her nightmares the last few months about Draco that made her wonder if they were cursed and in grave danger – and warning him tomorrow at the Hogs Head - everything she could finally set free from her already heavy heart.

She sat on the other side of the bed facing Ginny, whose face softened. Hermione smiled ruefully, shaking her head in disbelief at the sheer number of secrets she had been keeping to herself lately, "Oh Ginny," She grimaced, "Where do I begin?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Next Chapter: Secret Meetings. In which they meet again and Hermione learns something very devastating about what happened at the Cave. Decisions have to be made. Can they put aside their differences and work together before the curse takes their lives?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: **

**Secret Meetings**

* * *

It was noon. Hermione Apparated into Hogsmeade and made her way slowly past the small shops, trying to blend in and hoping not to attract any attention to herself. Wearing a black hooded cloak pulled over her head to cover her hair, Hermione was sure no one would recognize her as she passed, head down, the hood leaving only her lips exposed.

People brushed hurriedly past her holding up shopping lists and walking quickly, purposefully—nervously. It was unusually crowded; there were more people than she'd expected. A small fear crept up her skin as she saw a few cloaked Death Eaters patrolling the streets, laughing forcefully as if they knew how much power they wielded over the Wizarding World now. She kept her eyes down, trying not to attract any attention.

The familiar smell of warm, succulent chocolate wafted from the sweetshop, and Hermione saw to her surprise that Honeydukes was still bustling with large crowds. Smiling to herself, she remembered the cold spring day in her third year that she had spent with Ron, pretending they were buying sweets for Harry, all the while casting nervous glances at each other. She tried not to think of Ron often; worrying about what he was doing right then was too painful for her.

She walked faster, past the Post Office which had moving posters seeking the capture of members of the Order of the Phoenix—Harry, Ron, and herself included. She couldn't help peering up from under her cloak to look at her own poster—it was a picture from her second year. She had large bushy hair that frizzed like a dark halo, nearly hiding her face. An awkward, buck-toothed Hermione grinned and waved at her as she passed. Biting back a smile, she realized that Ginny's concealment charms that morning on Hermione's face probably weren't necessary. The girl that the Snatchers were looking for bore no resemblance to her now in any way. For one thing, thanks to Ginny, her hair was incredibly sleek so no one would instantly recognize her on the streets. Ginny spent the whole morning with beauty charms; she seemed strangely excited for Hermione's meeting, insisting all the lash-curling and hair-straightening was for her protection.

Suddenly, the large clock in the center of town struck one. Hermione's legs carried her faster; the sun was hidden behind dark gray clouds, making it look nearer to night than afternoon. She was almost late.

As she entered the Hog's Head, the raucous chattering of the crowd outside in the streets dropped away suddenly in the near-empty inn. Except for some strange magical folk in similar hooded cloaks to hide their faces, there was no one there. They looked up curiously as she walked to the barman, her cloak sweeping past the dusty floor. Aberforth was wiping the tabletop, chewing on a piece of twig. He looked up as she passed two sickles across the wood table, ordering a butterbeer. From under her sleeve, she flashed a small sign—a silver coin with a phoenix emblazoned on one side—a charm she herself had created for the Order of the Phoenix. He looked like he hadn't seen anything, continuing to wipe the table as he bent over, pulling up a dusty bottle of butterbeer and uncorking it roughly for her.

As Hermione pretended to lift the bottle to her lips, he began wiping the dirty rag across the rough-hewn wooden table. Then, unseen by anyone else but her, he made a slight gesture. From the corner of his mouth, Aberforth whispered roughly, "Upstairs. He's been waiting awhile for you."

Hermione made no response but she felt a strange thrill run up her spine. It had been months since she had left Headquarters to do anything—it was only Ginny throwing a fit on her behalf this morning that she even managed to get out at all. Everyone seemed to tread carefully around her; over the course of the past year, after her near death escape from the Cave, Ron felt unwilling to bring her along on any missions. Finally, in a fit of nerves, he'd even refused to let her come along on the Horcrux hunt. Ron said he was worried about her, that he couldn't bear to lose her again, but it only made her feel like a precious porcelain vase—frail and useless. And now, here she was—meeting secretly with Malfoy—the most dangerous thing she could be doing in anyone's eyes, much less a protective boyfriend's.

Making sure no one saw her, she walked behind the bar counter to a small, dark door. Her feet swiftly breezed up the rickety stairs hidden behind it and she reached a small sitting room, and looked around. There was no one there. She spun on her feet confusedly until she saw another small door to her right. Sprinting past the door, she found another winding staircase that led upstairs to the guest rooms.

Running swiftly up the stairs, she stopped dead in the first landing—the guest room door was shut but there was a small flickering of candlelight under the doorway. Holding up her wand protectively, she slowly pushed open the grayish wooden door. Peering inside, she saw a small table with some chairs in front of a fireplace. There was a large four-poster bed in the very corner, and the floor was still covered in sawdust like the inn below. She stepped in the room carefully; the floorboard creaked. Then, in front of the grimy window, she finally saw Malfoy. He had his back to her as he swished a square glass of Firewhiskey, the ice cubes clinking softly.

Locking the door behind her, Hermione felt an electric jolt course excitingly through her. "You're early," she whispered softly.

"You're late." His voice was low and weak. He finally turned around—she saw that his face was drawn and pale. He pointed smilingly to the small clock hanging above the door—one-thirty-four in the afternoon. "If you didn't show up in five minutes, I was going to Crucio you."

Smiling, she pulled back her hooded cloak.

He looked suddenly winded as he examined her pale face. He walked over to her, looking concerned, "You're not ill, are you?"

"No." She studied his face. "If anything, you look worse." She felt the urge to touch his gray skin and search his gaunt eyes for an answer to the strange things that had been happening the last year. As she looked into his drained eyes, she realized her nightmares were all real. She had seen his eyes look exactly like this in her visions. They were always tired and worn. He looked thinner too. Like he hadn't slept in days.

He scoffed, bringing her out of her thoughts. Frowning confusedly as he studied her face, he reached out a hesitant hand to touch her sleek, shiny locks. "Granger," he grinned, and a spot of color appeared on his cheeks, "what the hell did you do to your hair?"

Hermione felt the constant chill disappear with his touch. He sounded almost… disappointed that her hair wasn't wild and thick anymore. She looked up again into his gray eyes, which were deep and magnetic. They were standing so close; there was hardly any distance between them. Draco bit his lips, his eyes gazing down at her mouth. Her breathing quickened despite herself.

Abruptly, he frowned, pulling back, bringing to a standstill the strange, attraction between them. He cleared his throat loudly, his hand quickly releasing the lock of her hair. Hermione stepped back, blushing, looking away. Swiftly sitting down at the table, he motioned for her to take the other seat. He poured himself another drink. "So… want to tell me why we're here? I haven't got all day, you know."

She looked down at her hands, unable to begin. "Something's happening, Malfoy." She looked up at his face, her voice grave, "Something bad."

He frowned again, looking into her eyes. She looked away quickly. "I—I've been having these dreams—" she stopped, seeing him raise his eyebrow, intrigued—"No! I've been having these nightmares—about—about you."

He raised both eyebrows, his eyes playful, and his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

"Shut up—it's not like that." Her voice became suddenly grim again. "For months, I didn't know what they meant. Each night they kept getting clearer and clearer, as if I were standing right there—as if I could hear every thought in your head. And then—last night, I saw you do something horrible—"

For the first time his smirk wore off and his eyes were serious as he listened to her without interrupting.

"I dreamt you killed your father by torturing him." Hermione held her breath, hoping that it hadn't happened yet. What if it had? But it couldn't have; he seemed too playful with her. She looked at his unreadable face, wondering if she had said something wrong. She grimaced apologetically. "Oh no, has it—has it already happened?"

His gray eyes shot up quickly and she looked away; his gaze was so sharp.

"No." His voice was hard-edged.

"That's not the end," she went on, relieved that the great brute he called Father was still alive. "You-Know-Who...called you his most faithful servant. He said you were destined to do great things for him…in the next year, you would bring him his greatest traitors …." She looked down, tears streaming suddenly. "He said you would bring him Harry." She wiped her tears away roughly. "And then, he asked you to—to take the Death Mark."

Draco stood up so quickly the table fell over with a loud clatter. The square glass of Firewhiskey crashed to shards on the sawdust floor. In a panic, Hermione gripped the sides of her chair, her hand slowly reaching for her wand. Ginny warned her not to treat him like a friend. Malfoy didn't deserve to be trusted fully yet. He could still be dangerous.

"How did you know about the Death Mark?" he asked, turning his back to her as he looked out the window. Hermione breathed in relief; he wasn't angry with her. He was just…shocked.

She pondered aloud, "I've never heard of it before…'til last night in my dream. Does it really exist? What is it, then?" she asked eagerly, suddenly excited that she had been seeing things that were actually real. Trelawney be damned.

He turned around. "I can't tell you about it now." He changed the subject too quickly. Draco, with a swish of his wand, set the table back on its feet and the glass of Firewhiskey repaired itself. He sat down again. Running his hands through his hair, he closed his eyes, asking angrily, "Why are you telling me all this? Why are you even here?"

Hermione shook her head. "I felt like—if I told you—you could stop it from happening somehow. Trust me, Malfoy, that's the worst thing you could ever do—hurt your parents even if you think you might protect one of them by doing something wrong." She paused, laughing grimly at herself, "I'd know all about that, wouldn't I? You'll never be able to forgive yourself for it. The guilt will eat you up from inside." She paused, speaking slowly, firmly, "Whatever happens, Malfoy, don't do it. Do you hear me? Don't you dare do it." She gave him a dead serious look.

He scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. "You still believe I'm not a willing part of it all, don't you? Why do you trust me so much? I'm a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! I could kill you…I'm actually supposed to kill you, come to think of it...Avada Kedavra on sight—those were the orders." He looked away, pretending to reconsider his commands.

Hermione smiled shrewdly, considering him. "I know you won't."

He raised his eyebrows cynically, as if even he didn't trust himself.

Hermione paused, frowning. "Well, even if you do kill me now, I would have made you think. Helped you somehow by warning you. I would have given you more time to make the right choice. I'm sure it matters…in the end. Dumbledore would have wanted me to, I'm sure. Even if Harry and Ron don't understand his reasons, Dumbledore wanted to protect you just like he wanted to protect Harry. He trusted you, and that's enough for me." Groaning, Hermione shook her head. "Ugh! Anything's better than being stuck in that abysmal house all my life, doing absolutely nothing but cleaning all day and passing on information."

Draco tutted mockingly, but there was a small, understanding tone he couldn't completely hide. "Poor little otter—all holed up in your lair and no way to dig yourself out. What are Potty and Weasley doing by the way? Besides deserting you in their pursuit for the best camping retreats in the country?" He laughed, "You're better off without it, really. Got a tip yesterday they're going in circles, and it looks like Weasley isn't too happy with Potty's plans—might be deserting him soon."

Hermione gasped, "No! Ron wouldn't! Harry needs him!" She turned her face away, toward the fireplace, her eyebrows knitting in anger. She should have gone with them. If she had, Ron wouldn't leave like that. She was sure of it.

Draco shrugged. "Not that this isn't fun—talking about the mind-bogglingly stupid adventures of those two wankers—but like I said before, haven't got all day. Is that all, Granger?" He made to leave, but she stopped him.

Getting up quickly, Hermione stood towering over him. Still sitting, Draco let his gray-blue eyes wander up to her face, and some dark feelings in the back of her mind liked how he looked just then. Shaking her head of those thoughts, she pulled out a heavy book from her cloak. It was thick, with old parchment bound in fraying, dark green dragon hide.

She dropped it roughly in his lap. "Being trapped in that place does have its uses. The Black family's library is the greatest thing I've ever seen. There are more books on the Dark Arts than I thought possible. Take this one here." She pointed at the book, and Draco opened the cover carefully. "It's all about medieval curses." She paused, quietly whispering, "Curses of blood."

Draco looked up, thinking she could deliver a dramatic line better than Snape ever could. He said offhandedly, "I know. Snape told me about them. He could sense that there was Dark Magic around me after I returned from the Cave. He thought perhaps I had made a blood promise. But I wouldn't tell him anything that happened, so he left it at that. He didn't find out anything."

Hermione scoffed, unable to believe that someone would be satisfied with such a vague answer. "Is that all you know? That we made a blood promise? And you didn't care to find out more?"

He laughed innocently as he remembered that night. "That was a good promise, if I do say so myself. I knew I would regret kissing you."

Her eyes were deathly as she looked down on him. "You have NO idea."

He glared, standing up from his chair to his full height to tower over her. Bitingly, he growled, "All right then, O Great and Learned One! I know you've been wetting yourself just to tell me. What the bloody hell did we get ourselves into?"

She smirked smugly before looking away, pausing for good measure, before she whispered, "The Mouth of Truth is a legendary statue with the face of a Gorgon. They say…it is found at the entrance of hell. One must give up a great and costly treasure just to pass through the gateway. Most people who make a blood promise to it are never able to fulfill it—and so the statue takes their lives…and their souls...That was all I could find on that statue in any of the books."

Draco had been flipping through the pages idly and he looked up, smirking. "Sounds like you swallowed the book. You'll be burping parchment soon if you don't watch yourself."

"Shut up, will you?" she yelled. "Can't you for once be serious? The point is that I found this particular book on blood promises in the middle ages. And I read about those forced unions to preserve kingdoms and strengthen bloodlines, and I had a strange feeling that the vow we made to the Mouth of Truth... I had a feeling we sacrificed something we both secretly treasured...Now don't you dare scream or throw things at me…I think we made a—a—a—vow—of—uh—um—" she broke off, her face feeling like a flue gone ablaze.

"A vow of marriage?" he asked coolly.

The clock chimed loudly; it was three in the afternoon. The sky outside the window darkened with a rumbling of thunder; it was about to rain.

Hermione looked up at him shocked, her eyes wide, cheeks brightly rouged with embarrassment. Draco tried to push back those rebellious feelings that suggested she looked…attractive. He cleared his throat, returning again to his icy, detached appearance.

"You're not at all surprised?" she asked unbelievingly. "Doesn't that disturb you? I heard you were with Pug-Face…I mean, Pansy Parkinson. Isn't it at all upsetting that you might have to leave her to save your life from a curse?" She waited for a response, but his face was impassive. She shook her head disappointedly. "I have to leave—I mean, Ron is the most—oh! Never mind—you wouldn't understand. And that's not the point. I think…these nightmares…everything that's been happening these last few months with increasing speed and force…I think the vow is on the verge of being fulfilled…or betrayed." She looked away. "It's been a year, Malfoy. I think our time is up."

"There you go again tolling the bells for our deaths." He strode across the room. "What if it isn't a curse, Granger? What if we could have some fun with it? You know, make the people around us faint from shock? And I for one can't wait to catch that dimwit Weasley's face blow up into smithereens when he finds out." He looked off, a wistful glaze in his eyes.

Hermione laughed for what seemed to be the first time in ages.

Draco chuckled, then suddenly stopped. "It's the strangest thing. I felt so tired before I came here and now I don't feel tired anymore. I feel fine." He stopped. "And you...you look nice, of course, but you looked so sickly when you came in through the door." He paused, "Granger, these last few days, haven't you been feeling drained? Weaker? Slower? Like your mind was lost somewhere else?"

She nodded mutely, understanding too well every word he said. The past month, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley constantly complained about Hermione looking unwell and not eating or sleeping enough. They were worrying she was wasting away. They thought it was because she was upset that she hadn't gone with Harry and Ron, but Hermione knew it was more terrifying than that; she feared that the curse from the Cave was slowly taking her life.

Suddenly, her eyes shot up to see Draco's pale skin and the purplish gray rimming his eyes. It was strange. They had seemed darker a moment ago—but now, in the hour since they had been speaking, his skin seemed flushed and healthier and his eyes looked rested, as if from a full night's sleep. Frowning, Hermione said, "I feel stronger too. Do you think it's because of the curse? Are we sort of fulfilling the vow just by seeing each other?"

He looked thrown by her words. He ran his hands through his hair, thinking hard. "Do you think that'll do it? Meeting every once in a while? Because this—" he pointed to the space between them, "—is too ridiculous. Impossible. Stupid. Someone's bound to spy on us...I'm sure it's easy for you to sneak out and meet me, of course, since all you do is knit sweaters and bake Christmas puddings like some cottontail rabbit-mother back in your stupid headquarters. It's much harder for me, you know; I've got to go out all the time, battles and dueling…" he stopped, seeing the murderous look on her face.

Hermione breathed icily, "Sneaking past You-Know-Who is a cakewalk compared to sneaking past Mrs. Weasley. You've got it better than I do….And I do more than knit sweaters, you thick pillock! Even if Harry and Ron don't know it, I'm constantly helping them. I've done more for the Order than everybody else combined! If it weren't for me—" she stopped, breathing deeply to calm herself. "That doesn't matter. You're not worth losing my temper."

He looked impressed by her self-control.

Hermione turned on her heel, grabbing the book from his hands. "I think it's fair to say that whatever's happening to us is serious. We've not only made a blood promise, which is very dangerous itself, but we've made one to the Mouth of Truth. This curse is dangerous, Malfoy, and I don't know when you're going to realize that. Before I leave, I want to tell you one more thing: I think we should tell someone. We can't just assume that secret meetings once in awhile will suffice to keep us healthy. Our lives are at stake. We have to tell somebody who can help us."

He scoffed, "Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Mudblood! We'll just march up to the Dark Lord, tell him we're engaged and we'd like presents from Zonko's Joke Shop. Or maybe we'd like him to make a charitable contribution to your stupid House-Elf Liberation Party in lieu of presents. Let's see how long it takes before he blasts our heads off."

She fought off the urge to laugh. "Not him! Someone we trust."

"I trust the Dark Lord," he said dryly. "I trust him to kill us in the most painful way possible."

Hermione looked out the window at the small droplets of rain on the grimy glass. She turned around. "I've got to go, Malfoy. It's late. I told them I'd be back an hour ago." She picked up her cloak and fastened it quickly around her shoulders.

Draco looked at her before getting up, the chair creaking slightly. "So…when should we see each other again?" He backpedaled slightly, "Er… to make sure the curse doesn't weaken us?"

Hands still on the clasp of her cloak, Hermione felt that strange thrill go up her spine at the thought of seeing him again. She bit her lip, stopping herself from grinning. "In a week?"

He nodded, his hair falling in his eyes. "How about meeting later at night? The Death Eaters don't patrol Hogsmeade from dusk 'til ten every Saturday because of their Dark Order meetings. You can come here safely without getting stopped."

Smiling and taking one last glance at him, Hermione pulled the cloak over her head and reached for the door.

"Granger," Draco said in a low voice, stopping her hand on the doorknob, "be careful."

She nodded, walking swiftly down the stairs and breezing quickly out the inn.

The small droplets of rain cooled on her hot skin, and she touched her cheeks, still feeling the warmth of her blush. Her hand still felt hot where he had touched her. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She was finally doing something. Hermione felt like she was finally alive. It had been a little less than a year, but the way they spoke to each other, it felt like only moments since they last saw each other. She had warned him about her nightmares, and she knew she had done something right. That strange fear that something terrible would happen to the both of them had quieted.

As she made to apparate back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione Granger realized with a grin that she was actually looking forward to doing something dangerous—having secret meetings with a Death Eater, her sworn enemy—Draco Malfoy. She being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he a Death Eater, she knew it was forbidden.

Sometime during the last hour, that ominous fear for her life had turned into an exciting, thrilling addiction.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Next Chapter. Obligations. In which Draco learns he has to marry the daughter of a noble pureblood family to produce an heir. Why is the Dark Lord so interested in him? And will his new engagement to Pansy put his and Hermione's life in danger?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

**Obligations**

* * *

Draco walked out the Inn, seeing the darkness cloud the streets of Hogsmeade. Within minutes of Apparating, he was standing below the dark gothic gates of Malfoy Manor, the rain still pelting him as he walked the pebbled lane, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. The ominous Yew trees swaying darkly in the wind as he passed them.

He could still feel the touch of her hand between his fingers. Draco moodily stuck his hand in his pockets, trying not to think about her anymore. Just as he splashed up the rain soaked marble steps, his House-Elf Edmee opened the doors, bathing him in a warm light. Draco handed Edmee his dripping coat and nimbly entered the grand foyer.

It was uncharacteristically quiet. No Death Eaters around. The drawing room seemed empty too, as if the Death Eater meeting had ended abruptly. Something was wrong.

Draco shook the rain from his hair, and sprinted up to his father's study. Lucius was sitting in a chair, the candle on his desk casting dark shadows on his face.

"Come in," Lucius said in a low voice, not even looking up from his paper, gesturing Draco to sit across from him.

"Father," Draco replied as a greeting, sitting down. Lucius became silent, but Draco knew enough not to speak first. Draco leaned back against the green leather chaise, closing his eyes, listening to the crackling of the fireplace, and the ruffling of the newspaper as Lucius read on.

"I have news for you, Draco" Lucius said, finally looking up after a long silence. He startling blue eyes were like a flash of light. "Tonight, at the Death Eater meeting, the Dark Lord spoke of you."

Draco widened his eyes, "Me?" Draco asked painfully, "Why would he speak of me?"

Lucius raised his eyebrows, looking down his aquiline nose disgustedly at Draco, "Well, I have no idea why he bothers with you. A petulant child who couldn't even cast a killing curse against a batty old man." His mouth broke into a vague smile, "I'm surprised he spared you after that pathetic incident at Hogwarts last year. He must favor you most peculiarly."

Draco suddenly remembered Hermione's chilling dreams about him becoming the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. He frowned, "And what did the Dark Lord say tonight, Father?"

"Oh yes," Lucius said remembering, putting down his newspaper, "He was very concerned with the state of our world. The ancient bloodlines tainted, the wizarding world weakening before our eyes, purebloods being defeated by mudbloods and half-breeds, the ancient Hogwarts relics lost forever," Lucius got up, walking over to the window, "The Dark Lord is right, Draco ... Our world is disappearing before our eyes."

Lucius turned to look at Draco seriously, "He believes that it is time to strengthen the ancient pureblood houses. You are a Malfoy, and after your cousin Sirius, you're the last male heir of the Black family - that noble house of your mother's which carries the blood of Morgana Le Fay - the mother of Salazar Slytherin." Lucius gave Draco a sharp look, continuing, "And quite interestingly, the Dark Lord has just discovered that the Parkinsons have a great ancestry like ours, perhaps stronger - they are the last living relatives of the Gaunt family - the last of Sytherin's own heirs, something which interests the Dark Lord immensely."

Draco closed his eyes, leaning his head back, hoping his father would get on with it soon.

"Don't you dare fall asleep while I'm talking to you, Draco!" Lucius snapped angrily.

Draco couldn't help biting back, "Whenever you go on about our ancestry, Father, I can't help but nod off!"

Lucius walked over to Draco swiftly, his teeth bared, and slammed his cane powerfully against the bare floor. "Listen to me carefully, Draco ... the Dark Lord wishes you to marry the daughter of a noble pureblood family."

Draco swallowed thickly, his mind racing, "Who is it?"

Lucius smiled grimly, "Since the Black family has lines to Morgana Le Fay, and the Parkinsons are the last relatives of the Gaunt family - who were the last of Salazar Slytherin's heirs ... The Dark Lord wishes for the greatest of bloodlines to come together - that of the Malfoys and the Parkinsons - which will bring the purest of Slytherin's last descendants together ... " Lucius said, sitting down again behind his desk, "Draco, the Dark Lord wishes for you and Pansy to marry within a fortnight ... to produce an heir."

Lucius' last four words rang across the study. Draco's ears were ringing. He felt the room began to swim. Laying his head back against the chair, Draco began to breathe erratically. Hadn't he had enough of surprise engagements for a lifetime? The very idea of marrying Granger was enough to give him nightmares ... but this?

"Draco," Lucius said slowly, "That isn't all."

"What else is there?" Draco snapped tetchily, "Do I have to marry Millicent Bulstrode because her family preponsity for girth may be dying out? Have some curse force me to marry Goyle? Make me get engaged to the Giant Squid?"

"Don't be ridiculous, boy," Lucius yelled, "Now listen carefully. This is quite serious."

Draco sat down, breathing angrily.

Lucius' face became pale, "The Dark Lord plans for the Malfoys and the Parkinsons to wed ... because he wishes to keep your heir as his own. Because of your pureblood ancestry and for reasons only he knows ... he believes you will father the next Dark Lord that will rule our world."

Nothing more had to be said. Lucius became quiet again, and Draco was lost in those dark words.

Suddenly, as if she had been standing there the whole time, Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the doorway, smiling widely at Draco. Her hair was graying and frazzled, her hooded eyes were darting excitedly. Her long black robes were tattered, showing pale flesh through the seams. Narcissa stood behind her, looking at Draco anxiously. "Did you tell him, Lucius?" Bellatrix asked feverishly, "Does the boy know of his great task?"

"He knows," Lucius replied sardonically, an uneasy smile twisting on his face.

"Are you not pleased, Draco?" Narcissa asked stood back, watching Draco carefully.

"Don't be absurd, Cissy!" Bellatrix cackled, "Draco not pleased?" She laughed again, "He would know no higher pleasure than to serve the Dark Lord! It will be his honor to marry for our noble cause!"

"What say you, boy?" Lucius asked silkily, looking at Draco with sharp eyes, trying to read his son's face. "You haven't said a word."

Draco cleared his throat, and put on the best smile he could summon. "Father, If there's anyone in the world that I'd willingly marry, It would be her." Draco said believably, smiling at his aunt Bellatrix too, "I couldn't be happier with the Dark Lord's wishes. In fact, It may be my easiest mission yet."

Narcissa beamed happily, "I'm so happy, Draco!" She bent down to give Draco a warm hug, "Mrs. Parkinson will be so pleased! She was beside herself when she heard the Dark Lord's decree! Now our two families will be joined together, and you and Pansy will be married! The last time there was a marriage in the Black family, it was Andromeda who ran away with that Tonks ... "

Bellatrix screamed, "Don't you speak her name! She is nothing more than blood traitor - she isn't our sister anymore! And don't you dare speak of the filthy Mudblood she married! The shame she brought to our family! A Mudblood! Andromeda married a filthy, despicable Mudblood! And her daughter, that - that Nymphadora - she has just married a half-breed werewolf! They are the shame of our noble flesh!"

Draco's head shot jerkily to his Aunt Bella's tortured face. Andromeda Tonks, his mother's sister, was burned from the Black family tree after she had married a muggle-born wizard. His mind uneasily wandered to his own predicament. He wondered what would happen to him if he told his family about the curse of marriage in the Cave ...

"Let's not speak of such terrible things, Bella dear, "A sugary voice suddenly broke in, "We've got more important things to worry about now." Draco looked up to see Mrs. Parkinson standing in the doorway, holding a black stole around her shoulders, her gray hair wrapped tightly in a chignon, wearing pale velvet robes, and grinning like a banshee at Narcissa. They both screamed happily and hugged each other tightly.

"I can't believe your son is finally marrying my daughter!" Mrs. Parkinson shrieked happily, "Can you imagine us as grandmothers? With Draco's good looks, the grandchildren will be stunning!"

"Hyacinth, where is she?" Narcissa asked, looking around.

Mrs. Parkinson winked at Draco, "She's waiting upstairs in your room, Draco dear. I believe you'll have lots of things to talk about! Now leave us women to plan your grand affair! We haven't much time, Cissy, we've only got a fortnight!"

"I'm sure you ladies will manage somehow," Lucius' voice echoed from the other end of the empty room, "Starting tomorrow, you can get all the house-elves to work. Unfortunately, I can't be here as I have important work in the Ministry, but Draco surely can spare a few hours from his desk to assist you both, can't you, Draco?"

Draco gave a tight-lipped smile, "Yes, Father."

Draco got up unsteadily, and bowing slightly to everyone, left his father's study. A vague uneasiness swept over him as he sprinted up the marble stairs, and opened the doors to his suite looking for Pansy. She wasn't there. He turned confusedly, when suddenly, Pansy ran up behind him, grabbing his hands, twirling him around, pushing him up against the door, and kissed him strongly.

"Surprise!" She cried, laughing happily, "Oh Drakey, Isn't this the best thing ever? We can finally be together! When Mother told me what had happened today, I couldn't believe it! Nobody even knew how much the Dark Lord favors you!"

Draco gave her a deadpan look, "Pansy, what are you doing here? How long have you known?"

"Silly Draco," She said, running a finger up his chin to his nose, "Always so serious!"

Giggling, Pansy wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest. He was about to pull away, but surprising himself, he leaned into her, holding her close. It had been so long since he'd seen her. Everything from work at the Auror office to Death Eater meetings to a little vow of marriage to a swotty Gryffindor, Draco had been torn from his old simple life at Hogwarts - warm afternoons by the Black Lake with Pansy, playing Quidditch with Blaise, plotting Potter's death with Crabbe and Goyle. He hadn't realized how much his life had changed, and for the first time, life would be normal again. A marriage to Pansy was something he had expected all his life ... he just didn't know how to handle the curse of marriage to Granger.

"What's wrong?" Pansy asked curiously, looking up at his face, "You look upset."

"It's nothing," Draco replied quietly, unable to shake off the feeling of unease thinking of the curse.

"You do want to marry me, don't you, Draco?" She asked in a quiet voice, gasping suddenly as a thought came to her, "Is there another girl?"

He spluttered, "What - what do you mean? Of course there isn't! You're the only girl I've ever ..."

She asked with a raised eyebrow, "Daphne's sister Astoria looked really upset when she found out we were getting married."

"I barely know her," Draco replied, pulling away from Pansy, "You don't have to worry."

Looking pleased, Pansy stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a long kiss. She brushed the dark hair over her eyes, and looked down at her hand, "Draco, I need a ring. I remember that gorgeous ring from your great-grandmother's. It will be perfect!"

Draco said sharply, "My great-grandmother's ring in our vault at Gringotts. You'll have to wait till I can make a run down to Diagon Alley."

Suddenly, Pansy was looking at his wrist, "Draco," She cried loudly, "Where'd you get that strange-looking scar?"

Draco looked down at the shimmering opalescent scar circling his wrist. He had a memory of the glimmering eyes of the Mouth of Truth drinking his and Hermione's blood after the vow, the twinkling faerie lights around them as they kissed, her hair shimmering in the light.

Shaking his head, trying to forget, Draco shrugged, "You honestly expect me to remember how I get every scar?" He smiled grimly, trying to forget Granger's deep brown eyes, but couldn't. He walked Pansy downstairs to the front door, "I have a long day tomorrow, Pans. I've got to head in early to the Auror office to handle some paperwork. I'll see you later, all right, love?"

Nodding, she said, still unable to let go of him, "Send me an owl as soon as you get home tomorrow?"

"Sure, Pansy." Draco said, kissing her on the lips, before closing the door. He loped up to his suite, taking off his shoes, and fell back on the bed, looking up at the chandelier-lit ceiling.

His hands tugging at his tie, Draco found himself falling back into his dark thoughts that happened everytime he was alone. Just this afternoon, he was with Hermione, a meeting which had healed him of the curse sucking his strength till they were together. Their secret meetings was keeping them alive, and was keeping their secret safe. And now, in just one evening, his life had fallen apart again. Somehow, very soon, the truth would be known by everyone.

He couldn't help the nagging feeling that something terribly wrong was going to happen. He couldn't do this. Some part of him knew that he was destined to die … either by the curse taking his life if he didn't marry Granger … or by the Dark Lord killing him for refusing to marry Pansy.

As Draco Malfoy went to sleep, he realized that in his miserable life, he had just one choice. Die by an ancient curse or die by the Dark Lord's hand.

Even worse than that, Draco had to choose between Pansy Parkinson or Hermione Granger ... for a wife.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

**The Problem with Mudbloods**

* * *

With a faint pop, and feeling as if he'd burst free from passing through a narrow rubber tube, Draco Malfoy apparated out of thin air in the Ministry of Magic. It had been three days since he heard of the Dark Lord's plan, and already, Draco had been feeling weaker. He walked tiredly through the halls, desperately trying to think of a way out of his engagement. He didn't understand anything about the curse, and why it was affecting him like this. At this rate, he'd have to see Granger every day. Granger was right - they needed to tell someone.

The only one he could think of was Snape.

Suddenly, he was startled from his thoughts by a great resounding noise in the Ministry hallway as the voices of thousands of people talking nervously met his ears. Draco looked around momentarily confused; he had never seen so many strangely dressed people in the Ministry at one time. The Ministry now looked almost like a crowded underground train station, people peering up the signs and whispering anxiously to their frightened-looking families. Most of them were waiting for the lifts to take them downstairs; they were being escorted down in large groups by brutish looking guards who herded them like cattle.

Unmoved, Draco strode familiarly past the darkly lit Atrium, with the ominous black stone statue of an enthroned witch and wizard, and walked down to the end of the hall. He left behind him a wake of fearful silence, as the people around him recognized who he was. Their eyes widened as they saw him pass. They were probably wondering which unfortunate muggle he had killed this time. Draco didn't mind much, if it kept people from talking to him, he didn't mind his reputation of a ruthless murderer.

Waiting mechanically behind the stream of Ministry workers pressing forward to the golden grilles of the lifts, Draco paid no attention to the people around him who averted their eyes, and meekly held their hats in their hand as Draco swept past them.

Suddenly, a hand tugged at his shirt. He turned around surprised that anyone would dare touch him, to see two identical looking young boys smiling up at him.

"Malfoy, it's me, Colin Creevey," the older one spoke up, his blue eyes sparkling, "Remember, from Hogwarts?"

Malfoy grunted at Creevey, turning away. He really had no time to deal with any mudbloods so early in the morning. Creevey was lucky Draco was too depressed and tired to grab that black camera hanging around his neck and strangle him with it.

Creevey cleared his throat nervously. "You see, Malfoy, we came in the other day for the interrogation, my brother Dennis and me," Creevey paused, "But they've put me on the list of people who didn't present themselves. Could you, for Hogwarts' sake, maybe look over it for us?"

Draco turned around, suddenly interested. He motioned for them to follow him. They looked startled, as if they didn't expect him to care. Striding over to the great black stone statue, he saw on a plaque before it, the flickering names of hundreds of Muggle-born who were wanted by the Ministry. Beside it was another plaque listing the tenets of the Muggle-born Registration Act, the most dangerous piece of legislation the Ministry had ever devised.

Jugson, a fellow Death Eater, breezed past behind them, heading for the mass of Muggle-borns lined up on the other side of the Ministry. "Well, well, well," Jugson said gruffly, "Another day at work. And what have we here?" He leered at the frightened looking women, "Now, which one of you fine ladies has got some dark artifacts hidden under those robes, eh?" He laughed, lunging towards them, as they screamed back in fright.

Jugson's back at it again, Draco thought irately, and he tried to concentrate again on the plaque of names.

His eyes suddenly caught sight of a name highlighted in blood red: Granger, Hermione. He didn't know why he should care, and anyway, that pestilent owl was probably living it up right about now, conveniently running away from the crowd of Muggle-borns now awaiting a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban. He didn't know why he was feeling sorry for the Creeveys, or why he was worried about Granger. Things in the wizarding world were changing quickly - and Granger's life was in grave danger, if it wasn't already before.

Unknown to his father, or any other Death Eater, Draco Malfoy had started a secret organization - the Scorpion Order - a fellowship of Ministry of Magic workers who were helping muggle-borns escape. He wasn't sure what was happening in his life - why he was engaged to two girls at the same time - or why he had begun this dangerous mission, but Draco didn't care anymore. If he learned anything from his time in the Cave, it was that Voldemort was not letting anyone know of his vast and deadly plans. The horcruxes were just the beginning. If Draco could do anything to stop Voldemort from getting complete power over the wizarding world, he would do it - even if it risked his own life.

Draco turned to the Creeveys, whose eyes lit up hopefully. "Let me tell you one thing. I should have killed you two back there for even looking at me, let alone trying to feel me up. Don't ever try that again with anyone round here, understand?" Draco barked, looked menacingly at the two of them, who nodded cowering.

Draco lowered his voice, but not his growl. "You can't do anything about that list. Too many people work here who are willing to overlook things like that. Now, listen carefully, you Gryffindor prats, because I'm NOT going to repeat myself." His voice was imperceptible except to the Creeveys, "Right now, on Lift Eight, there's a stocky man with a grizzly beard, wearing purple robes with a gold scorpion on the lapel. He's going to pretend, at exactly 2:00 p.m, to take the Muggle downstairs for interrogation, but instead he'll be going up with them to Level 12, to the building above the Ministry. He's organizing an intercontinental Apparition with about thirty muggle-born refugees everyday to Strasbourg, France." Draco turned around, watching thoughtfully as Jugson licked his lips hungrily, "And you're going to tell those women over there to escape along with you two idiots."

Colin looked so unbelievably happy, a small trickle was running down his legs while he crossed them embarrassingly. Draco rolled his eyes, and was quite sure, with bumbling idiots like this, his underground rescue operations would end in disaster. And soon. He had to do something to stop Creevey grinning at him like that. He couldn't let Jugson or anyone else find out Draco was helping them.

Suddenly, Draco snatched the black camera hanging from Colin's neck. He pulled hard, so much so that Colin fell to the floor with it. Draco threw the camera with a violent force against the dark stone floors, watching with a smirk as it broke into a hundred pieces. The brothers were scrambling all around, picking up the pieces. Dennis looked up, tears in his eyes, "You slimy bastard!"

Making sure that wasn't enough, Draco gave him one swift kick to the teeth, and Dennis fell, holding his mouth in pain, as blood spurted from his mouth and between his fingers.

"Now, that's much better," Draco sneered, as many people looked on at the scene with wide eyes. Satisfied, Draco lowered his voice, as he bent to step over the lens, crunching it with his feet, "Remember lift Eight, you filthy mudblood."

Without another glance, Draco strode casually over to the golden lift as it clattered open. If he could see the look on Colin's face, as he held the pieces of his camera in his hands, Draco would have seen the overpowered look of someone who was watching his greatest savior behave like the most damnable villain.

Draco stepped out of the lift as it shuddered to a halt in the Auror Headquarters department. He swept past rows of desks, with people speaking animatedly clustered around cubicles, holding pictures of Potter and other Order of the Phoenix members. As they saw him, they fell silent. Some of them saluted him sycophantically, and others removed their hats respectfully.

All of them stood up from their chairs, and many of them peered over the tops of their cubicles to catch a glimpse of him.

Suddenly, a deep voice called behind him, "Oi! Draco, where you been? Haven't seen you in three days! You're looking peaky!"

Draco kept walking, as Blaise Zabini sprinted alongside him, "Blaise, you must know me by now. If I don't show for two, three days in a row, I'm probably having wild sex in that brothel in Knockturn Alley."

Blaise grinned, his dark hair falling in his eyes, "By the way, good on you getting married, Draco. It's about time one of us did."

Trying to sound normal, Draco grinned back, "You're coming tomorrow to the Manor, aren't you, tomorrow? We're getting fittings for our dress robes."

"Wouldn't miss catching Pansy in her wedding dress," Blaise grinned cheekily, "See you round, mate!" He settled back in his cubicle. Crabbe and Goyle, who were in cubicles next to him, grinned up at Draco, who smiled back.

Draco wondered idly if he really did look that awful. He thought to himself darkly that he needed to see Granger soon.

Draco strolled to his office in the back, and threw open the gleaming wooden door. A small, squat man, no older than Draco, was sitting at his desk, hungrily opening a small, white paper parcel, and stuffing a steaming handful of fried fish in his mouth. Stebbins was making terribly disgusting noises, and there were slivers of watercress hanging delicately from his mouth.

"Morning, Stebbins," Draco called casually, as he slumped into his chair, massaging his temples.

Draco heard Stebbins fall unceremoniously off his chair.

Stebbins stumbled clumsily over to Draco's desk, trembling. "Mister Malfoy," he squeaked, "Are you all right? You look like death!" Stebbins then squinted at Draco, thinking he was a ghost, trying to see through him.

Draco looked up irritated. He spat, "I'm not a ghost, you great fat lump. Get me Snape. I need to talk to him."

Stebbins breathed a sigh of relief, expelling a nauseating cloud of vinegar and fish from his mouth. "I'll get him in a moment, Mister Malfoy," He said, practically skipping over to the hearth.

Draco shuffled through the pile of papers on his desk. There were three untied copies of the Daily Prophet on his desk. Small violet notes were floating above his desk. Important memos, probably about Potter's whereabouts.

Suddenly, he heard Stebbins talking to someone, though Draco couldn't hear much. He felt Stebbins press a cup of hot coffee in his hands. Draco sat back on his chair, turning to face the window. Great droplets of rain on the beveled glass speckled the vast skyline of London. Draco, without turning his gaze from the window, spoke, "I thought I told you to send for Snape. It's urgent business. You may leave for the day after he's here."

Stebbins looked delighted, as he packed up the remains of his lunch, and stuffed large piles of papers into his leather briefcase. "I'll send for him right away, Mister Malfoy. Thank you, sir. See, my son's got an appointment with a healer this afternoon. Bitten by a Grim, he was, nasty little creatures. All over the place nowadays, those Grims ..."

Suddenly, Draco grasped his chest in pain. There was an excruciating pain from his lungs, but Draco bore it silently. Stebbins continued to blather on behind him. Draco's eyes slowly closed, the last thing he remembered was the grey afternoon sky through the windows.

He woke up, a few hours later, and felt a goblet pressed to his lips. His eyes fluttered open to see Snape leaning over him, muttering an incantation.

Draco got to his feet quickly. He didn't want Snape finding out more than Draco wanted him to. "What happened?" He asked, wiping his mouth, and draining the goblet Snape handed him.

Snape's black eyes bored through Draco's, saying nothing.

Draco looked back into Snape's eyes, "How much do you know?"

Snape answered curtly, "Nothing, Mr. Malfoy, I know nothing. Though you worry me lately. It seems you're making enemies with the legislators with your opposition to the Muggle-Born Registration Act. I would be careful if I were you. The Dark Lord would not be pleased to hear that you're beginning to pity the muggles."

Draco leaned back, his face pale, running his hands through his hair desperately, "What's happening to me?" He asked quietly.

Snape studied him carefully, "When I came in, and you were unconscious, I sensed a great, ancient spell around you. I have never seen the likes of this before in my entire life. I wish to think on this before I speak further ... It appears like a curse. An ancient, powerful curse."

There was a short pause. Draco said, "I don't want to talk here. Can you meet me Saturday at the Hogs Head Inn? After the Death Eater meeting?"

Snape nodded, walked back to the door, turning the knob, "I will send you a strengthening potion tomorrow. Give my regards to Narcissa ... and Lucius. Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

The door slammed shut.

Draco sat back down, massaging his temples. Trying not to think of his wedding to Pansy and the curse binding him to Granger, He began tearing open the purple notes that were floating above his desk. There had been several sightings of members of the Order of the Phoenix. Podmore in Liverpool. Bill Weasley in Scotland. Tonks and Lupin, disguised, in Diagon Alley, outside the Bank. Granger in east London, on a street called Grimmauld Place.

Draco folded up several of the notes, and with a flick of his wand, forwarded them to Yaxley, head of the Auror Department.

There was one note which he did not send with the others. He held it tightly in his right hand, and set it ablaze with a spell, watching it until it disintegrated into ashes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

**His Two Lives**

* * *

_Clink._

A single drop of ice floated up a square glass of Firewhiskey, the glass casting a golden flickering against the wall.

Trembling slightly, his hands held the glass up to his parched lips. Draco closed his eyes as the cold liquid set his lungs on fire. Instantly, his sallow skin became flushed. He breathed a sigh of relief. The excruciating pain was finally going away.

Draco was breathing shallowly, every breath coming out in ragged gasps. He had known since yesterday that the curse was only growing stronger. He had never seen Snape look so agitated as he told Draco about the ancient curse that he sensed over him. The curse was tearing through his lungs and twisting his insides – it was worse than anything he'd ever suffered in his life – it was slow, deliberate, growing stronger every passing minute - the worst torture anyone could ever devise. He was losing strength, growing weak, forgetting things, getting so feverish that his entire body would burn, and feeling like he'd collapse and never wake up.

He threw back another mouthful of Firewhiskey straight from the bottle.

The room was coming into focus again.

Draco opened his gaunt eyes, looking wearily around him, trying to understand where he was. He was at the Manor … the drawing room was decorated lavishly with floating irises … he heard music playing as if from a distance … a gothic romantic waltz with violins and an organ … he could hear the music grow stronger, more forceful …

"All right, mate?" Blaise Zabini asked as if from a distance, pouring himself a drink beside Draco. "You hold your liquor better than any man I've ever seen – But don't let Mrs. Parkinson catch you. That woman's been a nightmare today," He paused, chuckling, "Well, more than usual."

It was then that Draco remembered everything – it hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt like he was crashing back down to earth. He was at his engagement party … and he could barely walk from the pain.

For the past hour, Draco had been sitting in a far corner of the Manor's vast drawing room, far away from the rest of the crowd, drinking. Slouched in his chair, Draco let his hand rest slackly on the armrest, swishing a glass of Firewhiskey, staring blankly ahead. His tie was half undone over his rustled white shirt, and his hair was damp with sweat.

Draco let his head fall into his hands. He felt suddenly ashamed for not being able to keep it together. Malfoys never drank as if they needed it - they were always icy and always in control. And in just one night, Draco had let his guard down.

"She's worried about you, Pansy, I mean," Blaise said, pouring Draco another glass, "She reckons you've been poisoned or something … I mean, what's with you lately? You've been looking deathly for days."

Crabbe and Goyle sat down, nodding agreeably with Blaise, their mouths smeared with clotted cream and cake. "You all right, Draco? Is something the matter?" Goyle asked worriedly.

"The truth?" Draco asked, looking at him tiredly, "It's complicated."

They were quiet, staring down at their glasses, as the orchestra fell back to let a cellist begin a dreamy song that was livened by a deep percussion.

Blaise chuckled, leaning back, "Well, not that you'll remember any of this later, but this is most interesting party I've ever been to … You know, mate, you might want to have a dance with Pansy. You haven't spoken to her all night. If you ask me, she still has time to find better prospects, you know what I mean? The girl's not exactly the ugliest thing alive." Blaise said with a playful wink, though Draco wasn't sure how playful it was.

Draco turned away from his drink, taking in the room again. People were looking eagerly at Draco, trying to catch his eye, and some were making their way over to talk to him hesitantly. Draco gave Blaise a silent glance, and Blaise, understanding, turned to a few hooded Death Eaters and made a gesture, "He's not to be disturbed." Immediately, the Death Eaters stood erect, wands out, frightening off people from getting near them.

Even in a world of ultimate power, the Malfoys were still feared and respected with a strange awe.

Draco let his tired eyes wander around the room. It was odd how the gothic Malfoy Manor was transformed in days by Mrs. Parkinson's desire for a fairytale romantic wedding – irises hanging off mahogany stairwells, iced pink cakes floating on antlered tables, white satin bows atop the stuffed deer heads on the mantel, and an orchestra playing grim, romantic music.

Some Death Eaters, unmasked, were drinking wildly, and the other hooded Death Eaters were holding their wands dangerously, and threatening people as they walked past. Their power had never been more unbounded since the Dark Lord rose again. They were like a dangerous fire burning through everything in their path. They pushed past people, turned over chairs, ripped the floating irises to pieces, sent curses at the scrambling House-Elves, and threw glass flutes and silver goblets at the walls, laughing riotously, knowing quite well that no one would dare stop them. This was their way of having fun.

Draco rubbed his temples angrily, holding himself back from shooting them with a killing curse.

People floated by dancing in airy dress robes, brushing past him as they twirled around the room. His father, standing tall in his best robes, was talking down to the Bulgarian Minister, a short man, who had come with his wife and five children. His mother was standing next to him, holding a champagne flute in her bony hand, turning up her nose disgustedly at all the people trying to hug her for her son's engagement.

There were hundreds of trays of cakes floating around the room – all of the pieces bearing a fondant statue of Draco and Pansy enchanted so they would dance with each other and kiss. Crabbe, who was hungrily looking around for something to eat, spotted the fondant statues on a half-eaten slice of cake nearby, and eagerly pulled the one of Pansy, and bit of her head, chewing loudly. "Cor, this is delicious!"

Blaise laughed loudly, while Draco just tiredly looked away.

A magical champagne fountain with glistening golden champagne bubbled frothily till the high ceiling. The guests cheered excitedly around the fountain, as they held out their glasses and stuck their mouths open to catch a few drops. It was flowing intensely over the tables like a cascading waterfall, and pooling onto the floor. People were slipping on it, and laughing drunkenly as they tried to pick themselves off the floor.

In the distance, there was a crowd cheering two white peacocks circling each other in a mating dance, and Draco thought he was hallucinating. This wasn't real.

It was then that Draco saw Pansy for the first time that night. Wearing a crimson dress, she was kicking off her red shoes, and loosening her hair from its chignon to hang over her shoulders. He tried, tried so hard to feel that love he had once felt for her. Maybe it was the curse, but he felt so numb looking at her. He needed to keep up the pretense – the pretense that he wasn't facing a terrible choice between her and Granger, and that the only person he wanted to marry was her. But he couldn't. There was a choice between his pureblooded world and another one – one in which everything he had ever believed in never even existed. And there was a small part of him that craved to taste that unknown world – to be with some one he didn't really understand. To be with Granger, who at that moment, seemed worlds away from his lavish life. A burst of anger flooded him at the thought - was he just seriously thinking about marrying Granger?

Suddenly, he could hear Pansy giggling as if it was the only shrill sound in the room … she slowly dipped her toes in the puddle of champagne, and splashed it at her friends Daphne and Millicent, who ran shrieking. A young man sneaked up behind Pansy, tossed her fluidly over his shoulder, and jumped in the fountain with her kicking and screaming shrilly.

"Like I said," Blaise grinned, "It's the most interesting party I've ever been to."

Draco spotted Slughorn, his old Potions Master, waddle over to him, his walrus mustache bristling as he smiled. "Draco, m'boy!" He chortled happily, a glass of mead in his pudgy hand, "A fine party, this is, I must say! And two of my favorite students marrying! You'll make a fine pair, the two of you! I couldn't be happier!"

Draco nodded his head, looking away. Beaming, Slughorn walked back to the crowd, reaching in his large waistcoat pocket for some sugared pineapple snaps.

Draco could hear the orchestra beginning a slow tango, and Pansy stumbled over to him, giggling. She slid her arms around him, trying to pull him to the balcony. She was so close; he could smell her cloying perfume. Thinking he had ignored her enough, Draco got up grudgingly. His breath suddenly quickened as the pain shot through his spine, and he grasped the Firewhiskey bottle by the neck at the last minute as he stumbled behind her.

She moved seductively backward, trying to entice him to dance with her. While twirling Pansy adeptly, Draco took small shots from his bottle. As the music grew louder, the pain cut through him scalding hot. He took a swig too long just as Pansy twirled into his arms, and her pug nose collided with the bottom of the bottle.

"Owwwwww!" She howled, rubbing her nose. Draco stifled a laugh, while Crabbe and Goyle roared from behind a pillar. Daphne and Astoria chortled behind their hands.

"Put that bottle away and dance with me!" Pansy yelled. "Everyone's laughing!"

Draco scoffed, "Who cares what they think?" He took another sip roguishly, looking naughty.

Despite her anger, Pansy blushed furiously because he was hot beyond reason when he played around. A carnal look came over her eyes, "Let's go upstairs, Drakey."

"Not interested." He said numbly, draining the bottle in one go. "Not now, anyway."

Pansy pouted, "Draco, you've been having a love affair with that bottle all night! Now who are you marrying, me or that bottle?"

With a flick of his hand, he set the empty bottle floating in midair. He gave Pansy a contemplating look, and turned on his heel back to the bar to open another one. She followed him furiously, her red dress billowing in the warm air from the balcony.

"Hey!" She whined, "Did you hear me?"

When he didn't answer, Pansy shrilly began having a fit, "And what's the matter with you lately? You don't have any time for me! Blaise thinks that something's happening to you … but I think you're just being selfish! You don't care about anyone but yourself! This is my fairytale wedding, Draco, and I won't have you ruining it by being a prat!"

Draco nearly choked, laughing mirthlessly at her, "There's a whole other world fighting a war out there, and all you can think about is this silly wedding?" He uncorked another bottle forcefully, pouring a glass, making her jump. "Well, let me tell you something about your fairytale. All this?" He gestured at everything around them, gripping the glass tightly, "It's all just a lie, Pansy … just a big lie."

Pansy pouted again, making a face, and Draco groaned distastefully at her childishness. They had grown apart the last year – he had seen things from the war that would make anything in society seemed pointless and childish. The battles that had killed his family; seeing ancient Arthurian relics mutilated into horcruxes in the Cave; the people he had tortured for the pureblood cause; everything had irrevocably changed him.

"I want to be alone," Draco told her gruffly, throwing back another glass, and walked away coolly, leaving her standing near the balcony. The Death Eaters neared her threateningly at Draco's word. She was about to say something, when a hooded Death Eater held out his hand, stopping her from following him. Pansy suddenly had a fearful look in her eyes, and she turned around quietly, looking for her friends, who were grinning despite themselves at Draco's rude remark. He was, after all, the Slytherin Prince … and all the girls still had their eyes on him.

Seeing the girls giggling at Draco, Pansy stomped her feet, turning on her heel, brushing invisible tears from her face, and stormed off.

Draco collapsed back onto the chair next to the boys, drinking deeply from his glass. Closing his eyes tiredly, he suddenly felt perhaps he was too harsh with Pansy. He turned to Blaise expectantly, who merely shrugged, as if asking to be left out of it. Draco was about to get up to go find her when he heard her squealing excitedly and talking in a carrying voice to one of the wizened guests.

"… And It's goblin-made, the rarest emerald in the world, and been in the Malfoy family for generations all the way back to Morgana Le Fay!" She said happily, extending her hand for the old man to observe, swirling around, and trying to blind people across the room with the sparkling ring.

Blaise was standing next to Draco, "Well, she sure gets over things quickly, doesn't she?"

Draco smirked.

Suddenly, he heard Mrs. Parkinson shrill voice calling Pansy from a dark adjoining room, "Oh, Pansy, come here, wedding presents! There are thousands of them! Oh Merlin, I think these are antique silver goblets!"

Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, and Astoria began to scream excitedly at each other, as they nearly ran thunderously to the other room, eager to open them. The sound of wrapping paper being torn to shreds with high pitched squeals was heard from the other room.

Draco began uncorking another bottle unconsciously.

Suddenly, Narcissa Malfoy slinked up to him, looking very worried. She took in his gaunt face, and placed a hand on Draco's forehead, "You're burning up, Draco! Should we send for a healer?" He took another sip, and she gave him a look, grabbing the drink from his hands, "And you shouldn't be drinking like this!"

She was the only one who could say that to him without Draco yelling at her.

Groaning to himself, Draco gave up drinking for the night. He leaned back against his chair, his eyes wincing in pain from the searing knifing pain from his lungs. It didn't matter anyway - the drinking wasn't nearly enough. He needed Snape's strengthening potion – but he needed to see Granger more. But he was too proud. He had to stand his ground. He didn't need a Mudblood any more than he needed a glass of Firewhiskey. He threw his glass against the wall, sending the shards crashing all around him, just to prove to himself that he still had power over the curse – over the pain – and over the vow binding him to Granger.

Suddenly, as Narcissa was standing by him, they were accosted by someone he really did not want to meet – Mrs. Parkinson. She had emerged breathless from her foraging of wedding presents. Wearing a red pillbox hat with a large ostrich feather placed precariously on her head, Mrs. Parkinson looked gleeful, lurid estate jewelry festooning her red dress robes. Beaming at Draco, but not sharing Narcissa's worried look about his gaunt face, Mrs. Parkinson seemed to be in another world.

"Cissy," She simpered, holding up a silver spoon, "Is this goblin-made, would you say?"

As Narcissa nodded distractedly, Mrs. Parkinson discreetly slipped the spoon in her overflowing corset, and went back to the other room for more.

Stifling a laugh, Blaise leaned in to Draco, "You do know that woman's been stealing from you the entire night?" He chortled loudly, "Dunno why. Everything's going to be hers anyway in a fortnight."

Suddenly, Draco groaned, getting up, feeling sick.

"Draco darling, where are you going?" Blaise said in a high-pitched shrill, imitating Mrs. Parkinson.

Draco laughed despite himself at Blaise's voice, but it hurt him terribly. A sudden pain was shooting through him. He grunted, and his eyes widened in pain. He looked up at the glittering chandelier, and his eyes were watering. Draco slowly closed his eyes. He suddenly felt strangely ill. He barged into the nearest bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, feeling relieved for the first time that night. He looked up at the mirror, and saw his reflection looking gaunt and strained. His skin was chalky like a corpse, and his gray eyes were dark. He sighed deeply, staring down at the sink. He turned around, pushing the door and walked back to the sitting room.

He stepped over people who had passed out near the doors. Draco disgustedly saw people he had worked with in the Ministry - students he had studied with in Hogwarts - everyone dancing in a satanic excitement as if they were drugged. Draco was standing frozen near the fountain, his mind racing, taking in all the chaos. The pain was growing stronger, and it was taking all his strength to be himself. Draco blinked against the champagne falling from the ceiling that was drenching him, saying nothing, just letting himself suddenly become intensely aware of everything around him. He was so numb. He was numb. Numb to the world around him. Everything seemed so strange, his life as a Death Eater, his Slytherin upbringing, and everything he knew. He was cold, unfeeling, and nearly dead. And he was sure nothing could make him feel again.

Nothing … except …

Granger.

He laughed grimly, thinking how he had changed the last year all because of a stupid curse. It wasn't that he had to see her again because of the curse – he had to see her again because he needed her. He needed her infuriating arrogance – he needed her Gryffindor pride – he needed her desire to change the world, to save people, to save those that no one cared to save. He needed her beside him so he could further the Scorpion Order – so he could save those the thousands that were secretly sent to their deaths. He realized strangely that just as he thought about seeing her, the pain disappeared.

He sighed deeply, running his hand through his wet hair. Why did it feel like all his walls had come down? He felt like he was looking at his world through different eyes. It felt like … he had grown up. Suddenly, his pureblood pride and Slytherin prejudice seemed too narrow – too constricting. If he had to live with the curse, if he had to marry Granger … he couldn't live in this world anymore.

Suddenly, just as the clocks inside him aligned to some greater purpose, something strange happened.

There was a loud whizzing noise from outside the Manor. He turned his gray eyes to the large window, just as a sudden thunderous explosion of fireworks dazzlingly burst over the large pond, blinding him in flashes of bright green and shimmering purple and sparks and foggy hazes. The orchestra began playing a waltz in time to the glittering display, and the guests screamed in delight. The Manor was in chaos as the chandelier lights went down, and everyone crowded near the balconies, people shoving each other to get a better view. Pansy was calling for him, but she was too far away to see where he was. He was nearly lost in a sea of people.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect time to escape.

He glanced up at the grand clock - it was nearly time for their meeting at the Hogs Head Inn. A sudden burst of anticipation flooded him as he thought of meeting Granger again. And he realized suddenly, that he couldn't feel the pain when he thought of seeing her. He felt himself growing stronger, his mind suddenly became sharper, as if every part of his body was urging him on. As if the curse had let him go.

He shoved through the crowd, moving quickly as his mind went into action. His thoughts clashed against the screaming fireworks outside and the gasping people around him as he made to leave.

Draco glanced for the last time at the lurid wastefulness behind him, the madness and the revelry, and the cacophony of satanic excitement of the drunken mob. They wouldn't even realize he was gone.

Quickly, he slipped into the shadows, closing himself into the empty family library. He could still hear the muted gleeful yelling of the crowded drawing room behind him.

He stood in front of the shelves of books and closed his eyes, whispering a strange incantation, while the air around him became electrically charged. The windows in the library were shining with the fireworks outside, the colors swirling around his resolute face. As he chanted, the shelves rearranged themselves into an arched doorway. Draco walked resolutely into the dark cavernous doorway, and as the archway closed behind him, he was suddenly shrouded in darkness.

"Illume," Draco whispered huskily. And suddenly, light exploded into the room, every torch in the bracket was lit, lighting ancient paintings, who quietly watched the young man sprinting by below them. The hallway was leading him into an ancient underground passage that connected the Manor to every wizarding place in England. Very soon, he would be standing under the Hogs Head Inn.

A sudden thrill exploded into every fiber of his being and he picked up the pace and, towards the end, he was almost running. A cool crisp air was blowing through the dark passage, and the breeze caught his hair, and he inhaled sharply. The passage ended facing a stone wall, which he adeptly traced with his fingers. The stones turned bright green, and flew open, revealing a stone pathway that was covered in creepers and vines. Thinking momentarily of Granger's flushed cheeks when she was angry, Draco looked determinedly at his path, a smile crossing his face.

He loosened his tie, dropping it uncaringly as he ran up the winding path, with a heady anticipation that set his every nerve on fire.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Next chapter is the meeting with Hermione ... and what will Snape see when he comes to the Hogs Head talk to Draco about the curse?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

**Flying**

* * *

He treaded purposefully, looking over his shoulder to make he wasn't being trailed. The Hogs Head Inn was the only light he could see in the dark streets of Hogsmeade.

His heart raced, as he thought of the dangers they were facing. Anyone could have followed him. The Death Eaters could have cornered her. They were playing a treacherous game meeting like this. This was unsafe. The Dark Lord's powers were greater than even Draco could understand – if the Dark Lord only found out, she would be tortured and raped … and he would be killed.

He shouldn't be seeing her like this – but they had no other choice. The curse was growing stronger, and this pain was agonizing. He didn't care what his family would think of him now and didn't care about what he was running away from. He needed to see her. He burst into the Hogs Head Inn, and silently walked up to the side stairway, as the barman watching him wordlessly with his piercing blue eyes. Entering the room, Draco placed defensive charms, and opened the window, letting the damp breeze inside.

He waited for her nearly an hour. Undoing his collar, Draco waited, trying to steady his breath. His heart racing, his wand gripped tightly. He suddenly felt stupid over asking her to come at such a dangerous time.

It felt like ages before she opened that door.

With tears in her eyes, Hermione opened the door, her cloak awry, and her breathing harsh and frightened. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the state of her. He got up forcefully. Draco walked over to her, his eyes blazing with anxiety.

"You okay?" Draco asked hoarsely.

"I nearly got – got stopped by two Death Eaters," She said, hardly able to speak, "But I stunned them. I don't know if anyone saw me. They're still there. What if someone saw me? What'll happen when they're awake?"

"Don't worry," He commanded strongly, "I'll take care of it."

She was about to ask him how he could be so careless, but there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. He exuded power. Pure power. It was all over him, like a raw strength, and his cool gray eyes nearly burned her with it. It was then she had seen how much he had changed since Hogwarts – he was so easily led by wizards greater than him then, but now, nothing could stop him. It seemed like he had the world revolving at his whim. She looked at him suddenly captivated, as if she couldn't believe he was really there, as if there could be someone really like him who could protect her so easily. She shouldn't feel like this with him – so safe – he was a Slytherin, a Death Eater, the last person who would protect her. But she felt he was different. A smile suddenly broke on her lips radiantly. The cold pain that had pulsated through her was going away, now that she was finally here with him.

Draco was looking at her, taking in everything she did.

Hermione walked to the door, slowly pushing it shut. Draco watched fervently as she gently turned the lock slowly with a wry smile on her face. They were finally together, closed off from the world.

A strong wind blew suddenly from the open window, and her hair fluttered as she turned away from him. Her balmy perfume filled the air, and his eyes closed in intense concentration. It was like water going down his parched throat – he couldn't get enough – she smelt like a hot spring soaked with lilies, roses and amber. The curse was growing stronger - making him acutely and painfully aware of everything she did, of every scent that stemmed from her skin. It was like an altitude rush – as if he had been flying upside down. He steadied himself, trying to distance himself from the heady rush of feelings that were sweeping through him. It felt like another life when he was at his engagement party with Pansy – he was numb and cold then. It was like the minute Granger walked in the door, he was different – he was finally himself – he felt awake, alive, raging with conflicted feelings, but always … he felt a strange energy.

He had never felt something so strong. And he wondered if there was something other than the curse which made him feel like this. Draco looked at her worried face, seeing something in her eyes. She looked tired, like the life was draining out of her eyes.

Suddenly, she frowned as she finally took in the state of the room, her amber eyes widening in shock at the empty bottles Draco had strewn everywhere.

"Malfoy," She gasped, her eyes accusing, "You've been drinking all of this, haven't you?" There was a strange concern in her voice.

Draco walked stormily back to the table, uncorking another bottle, "It helps with the pain, Mudblood," He said, throwing it back forcefully down his throat.

Hermione became quiet.

She looked down at her hands, her face clouded with emotions that were unreadable to him. He couldn't understand what she might be thinking. Her eyes still downcast, she said softly, "Can I have some?"

He looked taken aback at the pain in her voice. Trying to hide his concern, he raised his eyebrows skeptically, and conjured a small glass. Just as he was pouring a few drops in the small glass, suddenly and impatiently, Hermione grabbed the bottle from his hands, and she held her head back, drinking deeply from the bottle with an insatiable thirst. He knew what that felt like – to feel so consumed with pain that all you want is to feel frozen, to kill the blinding pain. He suddenly wondered how badly she had been suffering. She never said anything.

He got up, and took the bottle from her lips, "Granger, I think that's enough." He held it up over her head, a playfulness taking over. She tried reaching for it, while Malfoy was taunting her by towering over her, laughing at her.

She scowled, "Give it back, Malfoy! So you're the only one who can drink the curse away, are you?"

He knew how dangerous it was for her to keep drinking. He turned around, blocking her, and emptied the bottle in one go, "Yeah, I am." Smirking, he shoved the bottle back into her hands, "There, that's the last of it."

She looked down at the empty bottle, and glared angrily up at him, which only made him smirk more. In a furious rage, she threw the bottle at him. His hand fluidly went up, catching it with more swiftness than she threw it. A flicker of an impressed smile flittered over their faces before it disappeared. Holding her intense gaze, he let the bottle slip down his fingers, and dropped it, listening to the sound of shattering glass echo against the floor. He steeled himself as he saw a strange strength radiating from her. She strode towards him slowly, glistening with fury, and he edged back.

"Just for that," She murmured sweetly, as she walked toward him till he was backed into a wall, "I'm going to kill you very slowly …"

"Now, now, Mudblood, play nicely," He taunted, looking down at her intensely, feeling confused by a strange urge to push her against the door and kiss her senseless.

"Stop calling me that!" She cried, but then unexpectedly looked faint. The drink was too strong. Suddenly, she stumbled back, her hand flying to her head. She looked dizzy as her knees fell out from under her. He closed the distance between them in one stride and caught her waist and supported her in his arms.

Draco said amused, "Didn't I tell you not to drink like that?"

She moaned deliriously as the Firewhiskey suddenly took hold. She tried to push him away, her hands lifelessly pushing against his chest, "Don't help me, you filthy … pureblood."

"Good one." He scoffed, laughing.

"Shut up," She whispered, still in his arms. She let her head fall back, her eyes taking in the room upside down.

"You know, Granger," He said, looking down her elongated neck, "I do believe you're drunk."

Still in his arms, she lifted her head, and suddenly made a face, squinting at the taste, "Oh God, what's in that stuff?" She felt a sudden heat growing in her throat. She tried to stand, but collapsed back again into his arms. Everything was blurring. The pain was going away – and all she felt was a peaceful numb. She asked him blissfully, "I don't feel anything. Can you feel anything?"

Finding her legs, she suddenly stood wobbly on her feet, grabbing Draco for balance as she stumbled to the wall, asking it very seriously, "Can you tell me the way to Piccadilly Circus, sir? I'm getting my teeth pulled there, I think." She then hugged the wall warmly, mumbling something about needing to mow the grass and knit balaclavas for You-Know-Who to keep his bald head from freezing in the winter.

He was laughing at her, trying to remember every silly thing she said so he could taunt her with it later, when suddenly he remembered something painful when she said the Dark Lord's name. That word brought him crashing back to earth. For a moment, they had escaped everything – lost in their familiar fights. But now, nothing could stop him from telling her what had happened. She had to know. Draco looked seriously at her, "You know, Granger, now that you're sloshed out of your mind, I think you should hear something."

She turned around.

His voice was serious, "I'm marrying Pansy Parkinson … in two weeks." The pain that had vanished the minute he had seen Granger returned angrily when he mentioned Parkinson, and he looked away, closing his eyes tightly to escape from the excruciating curse.

Her blissful face slowly darkened with shock. Her smile vanished. Her eyes became glassy, and she asked throatily, "What?"

He looked out the window, feeling more desperate as he looked at her face. He mumbled, "Knew that would sober you right up."

She looked frantic, "But don't you remember the vow of marriage?" She looked anxiously around the room, "God, Malfoy, do you have to make everything worse? It was already quite complicated without you going and proposing to Parkinson."

He turned away miserably.

Both of them were silent, the room soundless except for the merry crackling of the fire that seemed to taunt them. He turned around to see her silvery tears in her eyes.

He didn't know why he couldn't stand to see her like that. Walking back from the window, he knelt beside her. She didn't meet his eyes, and he raised her chin. His silver gaze melted with hers, and Draco said throatily, "You're wrong about one thing. I didn't propose."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted confusedly.

Draco stood up, sounding suddenly unlike himself, walking away from her as he spoke, "It's the Dark Lord's plan … I can't explain all of it, but I have to do it - I have to marry Pansy." He looked grimly through the window at the dark streets below, "I don't expect you to understand, but if I don't do this … he'll destroy my family."

He looked back at her, expecting her to scowl at him or yell something. Not many people understood the strong loyalty the Malfoys had for their family, and their fierce love that held them together. But Hermione, she nodded understandingly, her misty brown eyes filled with concern, and at once, she gave him a look telling him he needn't say anything more. It was like they could feel each other's thoughts.

He turned away, leaning his head against his arm which was resting on the window. He looked down the streets moodily. He heard her stumbling around, and he turned to see her drinking from a half-empty bottle by the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" He asked stormily, walking over to her. She didn't say anything, drinking till it was empty. "Dammit, Granger!" He yelled, grabbing the empty bottle from her, "That was undiluted Firewhiskey laced with strengthening potion! And they say you're the smartest person in Hogwarts - where is your head? One more sip and this stuff could have killed you!" Draco was nearly yelling at her.

She gave him a basilisk glare, but her voice was nearly pleading, "Damn it, Malfoy! I don't care if I die - I just want to escape that burning fire in my – in my lungs like I can't breathe!" She was about to say something more, but she looked dizzy again. She looked like she would nearly pass out from the strong drink. His anger turned to hidden worry, and he leaned her against his arm. "And why do you care all of a sudden?" She asked him bitingly, trying to stand on her legs.

"You're right. I shouldn't give a damn." He said angrily, "I wish I could stop myself but I can't. I'm risking everything I have meeting you here. I don't even know if I'm sane anymore. But I don't give a damn anymore about why I shouldn't be here. We're cursed together –I can't let you kill yourself."

She looked painfully at him, and she softened in his arms.

"Granger, what's wrong?" He asked impatiently.

She looked confusedly around with blurry eyes. She took the bottle from his hand, and looked through it, "Malfoy. What are you doing inside a Firewhiskey bottle?"

She was the only one who could make him laugh like that and make him forget everything. If he didn't know it before, she was becoming his addiction. Everything she did was like a sweet drug. Still worried she might drink more, Draco grabbed the bottle from her and tossed it furiously into the fire, where it sparked and burst loudly. "Clearly, you're still drunk."

Hermione inhaled sharply, "Oh God, Malfoy, what is that? You smell like cedar … and tobacco leaves …" Her closed eyes strained intensely, as if the scent was overwhelming her, "I remember smelling a potion like that somewhere in Slughorn's class … It's so – so sexy!" She mumbled.

He raised his eyebrow and grabbed the bottle, "How much of this stuff did you drink anyway?" He asked peering inside the empty bottle.

"It's not as if I had a choice. It was the only way to stop the pain," She said, her voice weak.

His breath hitched in his throat. He knew what she meant – he knew too well that mind numbing pain that makes you almost wish you were dead. He was one of the strongest Slytherins and the pain was eating him alive. He couldn't imagine someone like her suffering through it, and suffering through it silently. She suddenly looked so small and frail in his eyes and her arms seemed so weak. The curse was killing them. That was not uncertain anymore.

She was falling asleep on his shoulder, and he looked around, and laid her gingerly on the bed, stepping back suddenly as if he was burned when he realized how close he was to her. He needed all his restraint when he turned to look her. She was mumbling something he couldn't make out, and she dropped head back on the bed, and nestled in the blankets. He waited for her to get up, but she went quiet, breathing deeply.

"You're not falling asleep here, are you?" He asked bewildered, but she was barely listening to him. She was breathing evenly like someone fast asleep. This was just perfect - Just what he needed to end an already miserable day. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated, "Whatever, Granger. Like I give a fuck. If you think I'm going to carry you home after you're too drunk to walk, you're stupider than I thought … "

She didn't say anything.

"Granger, for fuck's sake, wake up!" He said, nudging her dangling legs with his foot. She didn't move. He sat on the bed beside her. Suddenly he panicked, looking at her unmoving body, "Granger, you're not dead, are you?"

He leaned beside her, his frightened concern making him forget that he was nearly on top of her, "Granger! Get up!" He shook her shoulder but she limply lolled her head. Worried, Draco crawled closer to her, and held his ear against her face, trying to hear her breathing. He slapped her across the face, yelling, "Granger!" She moaned slightly, and her eyes fluttered. Suddenly, seeing him above her, her eyes widened. They both froze as if struck by lightning. There was a crackling mesmeric pull drawing him closer to her, but he fought it with everything he had.

Draco and Hermione were too absorbed looking intensely at each other to notice the door creak open, and they didn't see the looming figure in the doorway watching the strange scene before him.

"If you called me up here just so you could have me watch …" The sneering voice of Severus Snape came from the door, startling them both, making Draco whip out his wand instinctively. Aberforth was standing next to him, holding the door open with a knowing smile on his lips before leaving the room.

Recognizing the derisive face, Draco lowered his wand, panting, "Merlin, I was about to kill you right now. Haven't you heard of knocking?" Draco leapt off the bed, and staggered over to Snape, his heart thundering in his chest strangely. Hermione looked at Draco again through blurry eyes, not seeing him clearly. She fell back, her eyes closing in dizziness.

Snape sneered, pulling out a handful of glistening vials and laying them on the table, "And miss that delightfully disturbing moment where my godson was in the act of flagrante? How could I forgive myself if I had not burned my eyes seeing you defile some drunken trollop?"

Draco made a face, saying hotly, "I was not in flagrante! And she's not some drunken trollop – okay, maybe she is but don't let her hear you say that. And I wasn't doing anything to her if that's what you mean!" Draco looked defiantly at Snape, "Granger's passed out and I was trying to wake her up." He said simply.

"Isn't that what they all say?" Snape asked airily, smirking, "Yes, of course, Miss Granger's passed out …" He stopped, his face draining of all color as he took a double take at the lifeless woman sleeping on the bed, "Miss Granger?" He asked in shock, turning to Draco.

Draco scoffed, saying nothing.

Snape regarded Draco with cold eyes, "You do realize the danger you're risking. Do you know what you're doing? You're sleeping with a traitor! She's wanted by the Ministry! If the Dark Lord only knew …" Snape's eyes widened as he imagined the implications, "The last thing this world needs is a bunch of half-breed Malfoys running about …"

"Snape, that's the last thing we'll be doing, Trust me, sleeping together," he spat, cutting off Severus Snape midway though his absurd mental picture. "We'd rather kill each other and have winged horses draw and quarter our corpses than screw around." Draco let his head drop into his hands.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Then what were you doing? Hovering over her like that? And what is she doing here?"

Draco looked up, his gray eyes hesitant, "If I told you … And if you told anyone …"

Snape looked at him sincerely, "I'm not about to get the only one who's been like a son to me killed. You have my word." Snape regarded him with a steely glare, "Now talk, Draco."

Draco shook his head, lowering his voice seriously, "That ancient magic you sensed the other day at the Ministry … that powerful curse you think is hanging over me … it's going to kill me – going to kill us both. It happened when I was missing - when everyone thought I had died in the Cave. I wasn't alone. Granger was with me. We escaped the Mouth of Truth before it collapsed on us, but not before … not before making a vow," Draco said, making sure not to mention the kiss, "It's been a year since then – and our time is up. Granger's suffering just as much as I am. I had to give her the potion you brewed but she passed out after drinking too much."

Draco told him everything, and Snape sat down, listening with anxious intakes of breath. They talked nearly for hours, the fire crackling behind them, and Hermione muttering incoherently from the bed. There was a bluish light outside as the moon rose brightly.

Draco turned to look unconsciously at Hermione, regarding her sleeping peacefully, "We're running for our lives … trying to escape something that we can't even see. And there's not enough time. Nothing can pull us back from this curse. It's as if the world is aligning to destroy us."

Snape was quiet, looking away. He looked weary as he thought about what Draco had just told him, "I always wondered how you managed to escape that god-forsaken place. I knew you were keeping something, Mr. Malfoy, but I never thought that it was like this." Snape paused, his voice deadly, "Wait, did you say the Mouth of Truth?"

Draco nodded hesitantly. Suddenly, Hermione stirred restlessly behind them, startling them. She slowly revived, consciousness coming back to her as the drinking wore away.

"Where am I?" She asked, her eyes focusing, and suddenly looked alarmed as she saw Snape. "What is he doing here?" She shrieked, grabbing around for her wand, "Malfoy, it's – It's – the Potions Sir – Mr. Potions!" She frowned, "Wait, that's not right - what is his name anyway?" She whispered to Draco, still drunk.

"It's Snape," Draco said helpfully, rolling his eyes. His lips twitched seeing Snape's incredulous face. Draco gave Hermione a cool gaze, "Don't stress, Granger. You can trust him."

"Trust him?" She asked furiously as she sobered up quickly, "I barely trust you!" She covered her face with her palms, whimpering hopelessly to herself, "Oh Merlin, what have I gotten myself into now? They're never going to find me. Stuck with two mass-murdering Death Eaters and nobody knows where I am -"

"And we're stuck with you, but you don't hear us complaining like some two-sickle harlot, do you?" Draco yelled, getting up.

"Do you even hear yourselves? Stop your infernal bickering for a minute and listen to me!" Snape said, his eyes twitching slightly. Draco and Hermione looked at each other with venomous glares, trying to curse each other without speaking. Snape lowered his voice, and suddenly it was as if every noise in the room vanished. "It's about the statue."

Hermione looked at Snape desperately.

"But first," Snape said, his lip curling as he spoke to Hermione, "I need you to trust me. I can help you. Mr. Malfoy has told me what befell the two of you. But you must have faith, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, her eyes suddenly clouding as she remembered Dumbledore, and saw so much of him in Snape suddenly. There was a kindness in Snape's voice he couldn't fully hide.

"What I'm about to tell you is dangerous," Snape said, "The terror caused by that statue and these blood promises are legendary. The Mouth of Truth is a relic of the ancient world – an ill-famed statue with the power to destroy lives. You know, of course, that you cannot get past it without making an eternal sacrifice – it will take from you your most cherished possession. In the case of Mr. Malfoy, his was about to be engaged to Ms. Parkinson – so the statue took from him his hand in marriage and it was given to his most hated enemy – Ms. Granger here."

Hermione looked at Draco, who was looking at the fireplace with a distant look in his eyes. He was very quiet, taking in every word. Hermione's mind raced, trying to understand how both their lives had been irreparably broken. She suddenly remembered the malevolent glimmer in the eyes of the statue as it bit down on their wrists, drinking their blood.

Snape said gravely, "Lives have been completely ruined because of this accursed statue, and the courses of destinies have been irrevocably altered. People have rarely ever fulfilled their vows. It's no wonder it was found in the most damnable pit in hell – that Cave."

Snape continued, "You know what it asks from you. It asks the impossible – that you, Mr. Malfoy should marry a muggle-born in the middle of the Second War. It is absurd. The Dark Lord will destroy the house of Malfoy in a second if he only knew. The Dark Lord has plans for Draco that would be destroyed if this marriage between you both were to take place ... evidently; his plans are unraveling as we speak."

Hermione felt more desperate and devastated just hearing Snape's somber, knowing tone. Snape wasn't going to break the curse – nothing and no one could stop it from ruining their lives.

"Your path is fraught with danger and death," Snape said, his voice silky, "Unless you marry, everyday of your lives, you will be bound tighter and closer to each other's souls until you feel and hear and see exactly what the other feels. You will be cursed; you cannot live on your own. You will die soon after, that is certain. Till now, perhaps you've felt only the most painful and acute emotions of each other – you've only been hearing the other's thoughts like whispers in your mind. But soon, every breath will be shared till your painful death."

Snape turned to Draco, "Which is why you must either be married or consummate your cursed betrothal before it is too late. The curse will be lifted once it is realized," Snape finished, looking somber.

Draco nodded, speaking for the first time, "I always knew it would be like this. The symptoms were too clearly marked like the slow death of a plague so it would be untraceable in the middle ages – but today, without having the plague, we know it was the cursed statue. We're going to die … it's just a matter of time."

Snape's face went cold hearing Draco, "It doesn't have to be like that. You know what I have told you – there's always fulfilling the betrothal – it will stop the curse – you both still can live!"

Draco and Hermione looked at each other meaningfully. Snape didn't seem to understand why they couldn't be betrothed in the middle of this war. It was escaping one death only to be killed later. They knew it was dangerous – it was forbidden – it was deadly to stay betrothed.

Hermione couldn't bear it. She began mumbling, her face white, "B-B-But … But …"

Draco looked at her, his mouth curving in a sneer, "You make such a great point there, Granger. You should be an orator someday."

Hermione's eyes were daggers dipped in arsenic, "Piss off, Malfoy. You know we have to find a way out of this. We can't get married! Can you imagine being married to me?" Her voice was hysterical, nearly laughing if not for the wretchedness behind it.

Malfoy was quiet.

Hermione stuttered, "You – you can't be serious?"

"You have any better ideas, Mudblood?" He spat, "I don't know about you, but I rather like my life!"

She stood up angrily, "But we'll be killed! Marriage is impossible! There has to be another way!"

Snape groaned, speaking to Hermione, "If you won't marry, there is only one other way to lift the curse. You know of what I speak - the dangers of not dealing with this matter. Draco could die in a year – you too – you'll be living a half-life, a cursed life, unable to live on your own! If you won't marry, then you must consummate the betrothal as soon as possible!"

This time, both of them looked winded.

Hermione and Draco turned ashen-faced, blurting out together loudly, "WHAT?"

Snape grimaced, "This is the only way. If you cannot stand to be married, then you must consummate the betrothal. You have to try it. It's the only way to save your lives. And do not take this lightly – you will, as surely as I am standing here, be dead soon. Whatever strength you gain from these illicit meetings can only last so long. The symptoms of the curse you feel now – a longing, a desire, a subtle pain through your lungs, all this is the calm before the storm. It will get worse. The Cruciatus would be a welcome end compared to the torture you would face everyday. You will BEG for death. Knives will dig through your insides, blood will burst from every vein, your brain will nearly explode from the pain, and your heart will turn cold, slowly, painfully ending your life."

Draco was barely listening, his mind still turning over what Snape had said in the beginning, "What do you mean we've got to try it? Last I checked, you're not the one trying it! Never mind I said that, I don't want you thinking of trying it with her."

"This is mad! It's absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione seethed, she had barely heard Snape either, her voice strained with indignation, "I won't stand for it! I'd rather die than do it with him!"

"The feeling's mutual, Mudblood," Draco spat angrily. All traces of affection that he had felt for her earlier that night had vanished.

Snape laughed hollowly at the palpable attraction they were badly trying to hide. He shook his head disappointedly, "So you're willing to give up the rest of your lives, living in a forced union with your greatest enemy, just because you can't bear to touch each other? There are greater dangers to a marriage between the two of you than you understand. The world is not like it was. Miss Granger's life will be in constant peril – there are followers of the Dark Lord that won't stand a marriage between you and her. You've got to understand. It's forbidden … No. It's worse than that. It's dangerous. "

The room was densely quiet.

Hermione turned her face away, closing her eyes tightly. There was no other way to see it - It was a curse – the most devastating curse of her life. And it would attempt to take everything that mattered away from Hermione – all she ever dreamed about was Ron returning from the war so they could finally be together, and now, she wouldn't have that. She bit her lip, as she whispered desperately, "I just – I can't – I can't do that!" She looked at Draco, "I don't have those kinds of feelings for you –"

Draco grinned, "You mean, 'feelings that can be interpreted as something lusty?'" He asked wickedly, reciting her words from the time they were trapped together in the Cave.

She narrowed her eyes, "You know, Malfoy, you have this irritating habit of memorizing everything I say and spitting it back at me at the most inconvenient moments."

"What can I say?" He said, looking at his nails, "It's a gift."

She smiled at him. Their eyes met, and they looked at each other meaningfully. Snape was right. They could feel each other's thoughts, and they knew what they were going to say without hearing it.

"You know what this means, don't you?" He asked her seriously.

She nodded, knowing what he was getting at.

Draco gazed at her deep brown eyes, "So, which is it, Granger, death or marriage?" He asked, biting back a smile. She looked past him, her eyes suddenly sad as she realized what they were faced with – she would have to marry Draco, and give up trying to win Ron back. She looked away.

Draco shifted, unable to read her eyes, "It's not death, is it?" He asked uncertainly, trying to catch her downcast eyes.

Still looking away, she shook her head.

Snape smiled ruefully, "I can cast the marriage vow when you're ready."

"Not today," Draco said to Snape, looking meaningfully at Hermione, "We need time. We'll decide whenever Granger wants." Draco had a ghost of a smile on his lips, as he leant against the wall, his arms folded across his shirt, "Looks like you're stuck with me one way or the other."

Hermione looked up at him, and finally met those stony grey eyes. She was livid, her cheeks flushed with anger - she was suddenly angry at him, acting as if this was all just a big joke. She looked around for something to throw at him. Her hands finding a book, she tossed it in a wild rage at him, but he casually moved aside, and it missed. She was so angry, she couldn't even speak - her mind was racing frantically, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"Damn you, Malfoy and damn this curse!" She screamed.

He barely heard her. Draco looked through her, deep in thought as he said aloud, "The only girl I couldn't stand is the girl I'd end up marrying. Life sure has a way of surprising you, doesn't it?"

Hermione was silent, the anger dying in her eyes as she heard the strange tone to his voice.

Snape looked somber, placing a pale hand on Draco's shoulder, "Most of us, Mr. Malfoy, live a very shrouded life, not even exposing our own desires to ourselves. We live by morals, codes, family honor. What would we be if we gave all of these up? Would we love someone we wouldn't even imagine?"

Hermione looked at Draco, blushing despite her anger. He was looking intently at Snape, studying him carefully as if Snape was revealing a dark secret.

Snape sounded so far away, "This curse has taken away all your pretenses, and exposes your soul's true mate to you, someone you never thought you would look at, because they were always hidden in the shadows. The statue - It exposes the truth." He looked at both of them, as he stood up, preparing to leave, "People should only be so lucky."

"Hear that, Granger?" Draco said, his mocking tone returned to its former glory, "We're lucky."

Snape scoffed, knowing well to ignore Draco, "So there will be a marriage in the house of Malfoy this fortnight – but a secret one – to a deadly enemy. If the purebloods only knew, it would turn their world upside down." It was the first time Snape smiled fully, "This … should be quite interesting."

Hermione couldn't help smiling too – in that instant, she finally knew that she always trusted Snape – there was something in his voice that was comforting. She hoped to Merlin Draco wasn't smirking at a time like this - although knowing him, she knew he'd find this situation very amusing. Against her better judgment, she turned to look at his face, and sure enough, Draco was standing with his arms crossed, smiling wickedly.

Their eyes met. Somehow, his eyes, they seemed to speak to her. Maybe it was the curse, or maybe it was because they had both gone through something that no one else could ever understand. He had known what her raging mind had been going through just now. She could see in his eyes, the same terror, the same nervous confusion that she had felt a moment before. And with a simple imperceptible kind smile that anyone but Hermione would have confused for an arrogant smirk, Draco had given her more comfort than she could have possibly expected from anyone else.

Snape came over to them, handing them glistening vials, "Take these every night till the wedding. It will keep your sanity till you meet again. I would advise you to hasten the wedding – we don't know how quickly the curse will act once the time is nearly up. We have only thirteen days till July the Second – the day Mr. Malfoy returned from the Cave last year. When can you meet us safely, Miss Granger?" He asked her softly, and she was thrown by the gentleness in his voice. Perhaps because she was now betrothed to his godson, Snape would finally have to be nice to her.

"This Sunday," She replied quietly. She tried to stop thinking about her fantasy wedding with Ron in the Burrow that she had imagined since she was twelve. She shuddered, suddenly imagining getting hitched to Malfoy of all people without any of her friends in a dingy inn that smelt like goats. "I don't want to get … married here of all places. Or worse, in the Shrieking Shack."

They looked at her curiously.

She stumbled, but her face was glowing with a thought, "There's a muggle church in Wells where my parents were married. It's not the most beautiful place, but –"

Snape looked bewildered, but Draco looked like he was considering it. He turned to Snape, convincing him, "Nobody will think to look for us there."

Snape nodded silently. "You're right. You will be safe."

Suddenly, there was a stumbling sound downstairs, and people yelling in deep voices. Draco gave Snape a meaningful look, and Snape crossed the room, making sure the door was bolted. Something was happening. They could hear Aberforth stumbling up the stairs, knocking furiously on the door. The three of them had their wands at the ready.

Aberforth whispered between the hinges, "They're here – two Death Eaters – looking for one of Harry Potter's accomplices – a girl that stunned them and got away. You don't have much time to escape."

Draco walked over to the door, his wand ready, his face determined steel. He turned to Hermione, his voice suddenly powerful, "Didn't I say I'd take care of it?"

Snape stopped him, "No! I'll deal with them. You should take Miss Granger back home. We wouldn't want someone killing her if she leaves alone – because of the curse, you might get hurt yourself if she is attacked. She needs your protection till the curse is lifted." Snape threw his broom at Draco, who caught it in midair, "Take my broom. Leave out the window. Be quick."

Draco nodded, and Snape quickly slipped out the door, his wand aloft, heading downstairs. Draco went to the window, making sure there was no one on the streets below.

Hermione was looking worriedly at the broom in his hands, "Er – wouldn't it be better to apparate? Or make a Portkey?"

Draco half-turned to look at her, "Do you know how long it'd take to make a Portkey? And we'd have to walk past the Death Eaters to get to the Apparition point."

Hermione said nervously, her fearful eyes still on the broom, "Er – maybe we shouldn't leave and just hide here." Her face lit up, "That's it - I'll hide under the bed. They won't find me." She turned to the bed, reaching for the sheets, when a strong hand grasped her wrist.

Her hands flushed under his grasp. She didn't turn. She could feel him standing behind her. She closed her eyes, almost feeling the smile on his face. Draco whispered, a smile in his voice, "Granger … are you afraid … of flying?"

Hermione turned to face him, her face severe, and she breathed, "I can't. I can't go."

The voices downstairs became louder almost to drown them out. It was growing louder every second, making her heart beat erratically from fear. Draco said seriously, his gray eyes forceful, "They'll find us, and take you back. They'll break you in every way … and you won't even know who you are when they're done … Am I scaring you?"

She inhaled sharply, suddenly afraid.

"It's worse … worse than I what I'm trying to tell you." Draco's voice was urgent, "Granger … just come with me. We don't have time."

Her lungs suddenly felt like collapsing at the tone in his voice. But her face was still hesitant, unable to forget her fear. But every nerve in her body was pushing itself to him. Wasn't this what she wanted? To be near him? Wasn't this her deepest fantasy to go flying with Draco Malfoy? She would have never admitted it, but she had dreamt about it when she was at Hogwarts. Why was she still hesitating?

He was near the window, waiting for her, his face cast in moonlight.

Suddenly, the rough voices of the Death Eaters grew louder as they got closer to the room. Her face paled as she thought of what they'd do to her if they had her alone. Her heart raced – images of her screaming as they stood over her.

Draco had felt what she had just seen in her mind. He didn't need another second. It affected him more strongly thinking of her being tortured and raped than it did her. His face was murderous as he thought of it. He crossed the room in two strides, and swept her up in his arms. "Come on, Granger."

She gasped, feeling her stomach flutter, feeling him so close to her. Her face was nearly on fire from the smoldering blood rush. Her heart stopped racing from fear and started beating out of a chilling thrill. The burning adrenaline was making her blind - she was only aware of what she felt, which were his warm arms pressing her closer to him.

Suddenly, they could hear spells flying outside the door.

Draco was at the window, standing on the ledge, looking out with Hermione in his arms. The broom was floating in midair, and Hermione whimpered as she looked down. He stepped nimbly on the broom, not losing his balance for a second, but she nearly screamed as the broom dipped from their weight. She couldn't imagine he was pulling one of his impressive Seeker tricks now. Still standing on the broom, he jumped, and for a second, they were floating in air. Suddenly, the broom flew up to meet them, and she couldn't believe what he had just done.

She hadn't seen Harry do something like that.

The broom was floating in a steady wave. She was trembling; her feet were dangling thirty feet above the ground, nothing but Malfoy keeping her from plummeting to her death. That didn't comfort her.

"You know, Malfoy," She said desperately, suddenly reaching for the window, "I'd rather take my chances with them."

"I'd rather you didn't," He said quietly but he was serious. She stopped; her heart felt like it was in her throat. "Hold on," Draco whispered to her. Suddenly, he leaned down, urging the broom forward, just as a resounding crash broke the doors of the room as the Death Eaters broke through.

Hermione gasped, feeling herself pushed back by the force of the broom, and she gripped him tighter, as she felt him soar up straight to the inky black sky, and she screamed, closing her eyes tightly. Her legs were falling back, and she could barely breathe for the wind ripping through her throat.

"Malfoy," She gasped, "Malfoy! Slow down! I can't do this!"

He suddenly let go one of his arms to hold her cold arm grasping his chest. He was afraid she'd let go. "We have to get behind the clouds," He said relaxed, "It'll be over soon, Granger," He promised. He forced the broom to go faster, as she was nearly weeping from fear behind him. She had dreamt of flying with Malfoy but this was not what she expected. Her hands were nearly slipping off him. She rested her head against his shoulder, and turned to see the skyline below her. The earth was dropping away quickly, and she didn't even recognize where she was. In a moment, they had found a dark cloud that hid the world below them, and suddenly, he eased up, and they were finally floating, the stars above them.

She gasped.

She was flying.

He smirked, knowing what she was feeling. "Still afraid, Granger?" He asked laughing.

"No," She breathed, smiling radiantly. She was mesmerized. There was nothing but them. Nothing all around. And it was just like her dream – Her mind in a haze, all she was aware of was the fluttering of her stomach, and the constricting of her heart as she felt him close to her. His hand was still holding her arm, and she broke into a smile, delighting in the burning of his touch. She didn't want it to end.

He turned to look at her, his sad eyes dark with pain as he took in her smile.

She took a lungful of air. The words seemed to come from somewhere deep within her, and she sounded so throaty like she was speaking from her lungs, "Malfoy …" She said sadly, "Don't worry, we'll make it through this."

He didn't say anything.

She suddenly knew why he didn't say a word. He didn't think there was any hope. Somehow, they were going to die … and she was sorry that she wouldn't have moments like this anymore. Tears clouded her sight, and she steadied herself, forcing herself not to cry.

He turned to look at her, his hair flying back. "I don't want you to pretend that we're going to survive. We're not. We've got nowhere to run. Snape believes you'll suffer more in the end as a woman – and I'm sorry, Granger – I wish it was me. I can take the pain." He said sincerely, and looked away from her, "Everything we're going through, it's going to get worse. You feel you're walking on knives; you can't eat, you can't sleep, you can't think. Your blood is scalding you from inside but your heart is so –" He closed his eyes, breathing sharply, as if he couldn't speak anymore.

"- But your heart is so cold," She finished for him, biting back the pain.

He turned back, and his mouth was barely inched from her lips. He whispered, with a strange strength, "You know, when your life's nearly over, you want to do something right," He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and she shivered. "It's going to take a miracle to save us now. We can't escape the curse. We've just got days left. This is the last stop, Granger. We've got nowhere to go. Funny thing is, I'd give everything I have … just for a little more time," He barely whispered against her flushed skin.

Her throat went dry. Her heart was skipping with suppressed sobs. She never thought she'd feel this rushing longing like this in a lifetime, let alone in one paralyzing instant. The blood rush from flying straight up could never compare with the feelings rushing through her mind.

"Do you regret anything? Now that it's almost over?" She asked quietly.

"I don't have regrets." He said simply, looking ahead.

Hermione shivered behind him. "None?"

"Not lately." He said hauntingly.

She smiled sadly, and held him tighter.

They were soaring faster and faster, and she felt like she had been waiting for this moment all her life. This was why she had never flown with Harry or Ron – she was going to fly with Malfoy days before she died. Maybe death would feel like this – no pain, just soaring through an inky darkness. But the curse – the curse had brought them together, keeping them close as if they had longed for this from some other life. Why did she have to find him now when it was all over? She thought she'd regret kissing him in the cave, but that kiss had held them together, and she couldn't regret what she had now with Malfoy.

She wished they could stay like this forever, flying, never seeing the cruel world again that had cursed them to live and fight each other as enemies.

As if the cruel fates heard her, the broom began to descend slowly; the clouds were wetting her skin as they went through them. The glittering London skyline burst suddenly below them, and she gasped. Her heart nearly stopped as he flew so lightly over the streams of streets, making her stomach flutter, the broom obeying every touch of his hand. She looked at him, trying to not forget anything. His shirt was soaked, and she could still smell his woody cologne.

She inhaled deeply, feeling like she was in a bitter paradise.

The broom plunged deeper, but she couldn't feel the fear anymore as they descended. The streets were deserted. They were floating over the street of Grimmauld Place; she could recognize the withered buildings as if it was the only place she had known. Their minds were so entangled that Draco did not need her to tell him where Number Twelve was for it to appear to him out of thin air.

"There," She looked at her open window – the room was dark inside. The moth-eaten curtains were drifting outside, fluttering in the breeze. Draco stiffened, and the broom came to shuddering halt a few feet outside the ledge. She looked incredulously at him, "If you think I'm going to jump inside from all the way over here, you're crazy."

"Don't be silly, Granger, you don't think I'd let you do that by yourself, do you?" He gave her a wicked look. She frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. In an instant, he lifted her in his arms, and stood up on the broom, balancing forty feet above the ground holding her as if he'd been doing this all his life.

"No, don't!" She screamed, "Malfoy, I'm going to kill you!"

He just grinned. She grasped his shirt, trying to not look down. Leaning forward, he leapt off the broom swiftly, and all she could feel was her muffled shriek as the lacy curtains breezed past her skin. Nimbly, his feet landed on an old carpet, silencing the groan of the wood floors. He set her down lightly, but she was already swatting him furiously.

"Don't you EVER do that again! That was the worst thing you've ever done!" She said angrily, stumbling away from him. He leaned casually against the window, folding his arms, grinning at her. He nodded his head behind her, and she turned to see Ginny upright in bed, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

Hermione's eyes widened. She was about to say something to her, when Draco came up behind Hermione, turning her forcefully to face him. He looked down at her, "Don't lie to me, Granger," He said roughly, brushing aside a strand of her wet hair, "You liked it … And I don't just mean tonight."

Ginny covered her grinning mouth with both hands, her eyes nearly bursting.

Paying no attention to anything else, Draco leant closer to Hermione, who was looking up at him, caught up in the steady rush of his stare. He looked achingly at her lips, then steadied himself, stepping back, breaking the spell. Hermione sharply took in breath, seeing him walk back from her. She could see his wet hair glisten as he was silhouetted in the bluish moonlight, the curtains fluttering behind him. She watched him feverishly, wishing he wouldn't go.

He smirked, as if he could understand everything she felt, and he turned away, a sadness barely hidden in his despairing smile.

"Later, Weasley," He said coolly to Ginny, before disappearing swiftly out the window.

Hermione leaned back to the wall, supporting herself from falling, her hand holding back her thundering chest. She couldn't bear to go to the window to see him leave. She ran her hands over the arm he had been holding when they were flying – she could still feel the burning sting of his touch.

"Wow … What was … that?" Ginny managed to whisper, stunned, still staring after the window where he had gone.

Hermione couldn't speak. Her heart was racing – pounding – threatening to rip through her chest. She ran a finger through the lacy curtain, savoring the feeling of the last thing he had touched before he left. How could she tell Ginny everything that had happened tonight?

She and Draco were running out of time, and they were going to die. Why did she have to feel like this for him now? Now when it was all over? She remembered how pained his gray eyes were when they were flying and his sad, knowing voice when he said he didn't have any hope. How all he wanted was more time. Why did it hurt so much to feel his pain? She couldn't bear remembering the hurt in his voice. She finally let out the sobs that were bursting through her chest all night. Her hands were pressing her palms tightly, as she sobbed soundlessly. Nothing could save them now. Even if they were married, they would be killed. The curse had chosen him – why did it have to be Malfoy – her worst enemy – the one man she wasn't supposed to be with – chosen him to be hers. She didn't even have a choice in who her heart wanted. And finally, tonight, she knew who it was that she could love with such a deep passion it nearly ripped her apart – it was Malfoy.

She began sobbing so hard, she was shaking violently.

A sudden clinking noise made her look up. The golden locket had slid from the dresser and fallen near her feet. She looked around, her lashes heavy with tears – Ginny was still staring at the window on the other side of the room – it couldn't have been her that pushed it down. Hermione brought up a hesitant hand to touch the locket. Her hands felt the studded blue sapphires in an S pattern over the fading cold locket. It gave her a strange comfort, reassuring her of something deeper. It was the same locket Ravenclaw had given Slytherin before they had died. They seemed cursed just as she was. She looked down at the gold glinting in the moonlight, and a flood of memories coursed through her.

She could still hear the rushing of the sea as she remembered how her life had changed only a year ago. How it all began with him saving her from drowning in a cave. The way he kissed her, his hand gently over hers in the statue. The letter that still smelled like him. How he had saved her so many times in Hogwarts even when she didn't know it. How he protected her from the Dark Lord and his followers. And now, he had saved her again tonight, risking everything to help her escape.

She sunk to the ground, sobbing painfully as her life collapsed around her.

She was in love with a dark knight.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Wedding**

* * *

The next few days passed by in a hazy blur.

Snape was right – the curse was growing stronger by the hour, almost … devouring her. She could barely walk anymore; her legs felt like hot knives were searing through her with every step. Every breath was an agonizing gasp that tore at her lungs. The worst part was thinking of their bleak life ahead – either the vow of marriage would not release them from the blood promise and kill them as they tried in vain to fulfill it … or it would actually work – and they'd live – only to be killed later by those who couldn't bear to see him marry her …

And who would have ever thought that Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, the infamous Death Eater, the heir to Voldemort's regime – would be betrothed to a mudblood?

If they were lucky, by some miracle they did escape the curse, she would be thrown into a more dangerous future than she could ever imagine – she would be married to him … her worst enemy, in the middle of the Second War. But that wasn't the point - if they died or lived on Sunday, it didn't matter. They would be free. They wouldn't suffer any longer.

She thought resolutely that no matter what, she would not give up now.

Suddenly, the gaslight flickered out, and the Black library was bathed in darkness, breaking her out of her thoughts. Hermione stood up shakily; she had barely slept all night. She brushed down her twill skirt, and gasped as she realized it was finally morning.

It was Sunday.

All the emotion she had pushed away came soaring at her. All the anxiety and fear and excitement nearly chilled her lungs. She would see him again today. She didn't have to wait any longer. The prophecy would be fulfilled. She rushed up, filled with a sudden energy.

She stumbled out the room, yelling for Ginny. Running through the disorderly library, Hermione gathered all the books she thought she'd need. Hermione had studied everything about blood promises she could get her hands on, making sure to read the ones about curses. She had steadied herself for an onslaught of dark magic that day, preparing for the inevitable. She dropped the locket secretly in her pocket ... it had become a strange companion all these days. She went through her old defensive magic spellbooks, remembering enough charms to cast on the cathedral so they'd be safe.

Hermione had been going about it all like a warrior, she hadn't even thought about the fact that she was getting married.

Ginny was standing at the door in her nightshirt, hiding something secretly behind her back, her face confused as she surveyed the mess of books around Hermione. "What are you doing still up reading? It's Sunday."

"I know," Hermione said resignedly, closing up another book and adding it to her purse, "But it never hurts to be prepared."

Ginny scratched the side of her nose, looking bemused, "I'm sorry, are you going to battle? I hate to be the one to remind you, Hermione, but you're getting married, not fighting in the crusades!"

"Ginny!" Hermione rounded on her, shushing her frantically, "What if someone heard you?"

Ginny closed the door laughingly, and sat beside Hermione, helping her pack the books.

"I'm making the most of today's escape," Ginny said, pulling her arm from behind her back, and she had two beautiful dresses, one in gold – Ginny's bridesmaid dress from Fleur's wedding - and another was a long white wedding dress, an antique, as if Ginny had filched it from Aunt Muriel's closet.

"It's beautiful!" Hermione gasped, running her hand wistfully through the white silk. She suddenly snapped herself out of her dreamy state, "Ginny, I can't wear that. You know this isn't real –"

It was Ginny's turn to gasp, "You're not wearing that, are you?" She pointed to Hermione's skirt and sweater.

"What's wrong with this?" Hermione asked, looking down, affronted. "And I've been trying to tell you, don't get your hopes up, it isn't a real wedding. This is a curse, Ginny, not a willing betrothal. We didn't want this. We didn't want each other. We wanted other people, for God's sake! And if anyone finds out about this, they'd kill us. This is the most impossible marriage … and you should remember it isn't real."

Ginny frowned, "But, Hermione, you … you love him now. That changes everything."

Hermione looked weaker as she heard Ginny say aloud what she had been feeling all this time.

"I don't know why you're still on my side," Hermione turned away to her books, sounding suddenly ashamed, "You should hate me - for what I'm about to do to Ron … he would never forgive me and you shouldn't either. He's your brother –"

"Well, Ron is my brother, no matter how much I deny it … and I suppose you probably still love him and all that filth," Ginny said, sounding bored, "But you're my friend – I can't hate you for getting cursed with an ancient blood promise! And you've got to admit, no matter what … mess … you've got going on with Ron, it isn't just a curse that's keeping you and Malfoy together … it's more than that. And the way Malfoy looks at you now … "

"Ginny, please, don't," Hermione shook her head, unable to listen. "Don't start with that again. There's nothing between me and Malfoy." She said a little sadder than she would have liked,

Ginny was about to retort sharply but -

"And how can I pretend that this is the wedding I want with Malfoy?" Hermione felt tears welling up as she saw the old wedding dress in Ginny's hands, "Everyone I love won't be there! They don't even know! I've always dreamed of being surrounded by all my friends and my family. But it isn't like that now, is it? Nothing is going as I wanted it to. The truth of the matter is, Draco and I aren't getting married, not really. We're simply fighting dark magic, and that's it. Nothing more to it than that … and whatever happens today will be the biggest lie of my life."

Hermione was brave, her amber eyes refusing to allow herself to feel the emotions flickering in her heart.

The clock struck downstairs, and Ginny said quietly, "That'll be the clock – it's six. I'll be waiting downstairs. Nobody's up yet anyway, so you've got a few minutes."

Hermione looked at the wedding dress, hesitantly picking it up, wondering if all that was happening to them was their destiny. Was she supposed to be with Malfoy? She suddenly remembered reading last week in the Sunday Prophet that the Parkinsons and Malfoys were celebrating the betrothal of Draco and Pansy, and she shuddered remembering the moving photograph of them together at their engagement party dancing, as if they were in love. They looked like they were made for each other ... if it wasn't for that bottle of whiskey in Draco's hand as he twirled her apathetically.

That was the wedding he was destined for – not this ... She was going to get them both out of this curse – and she would just have to watch him walk away, marry Pansy, and she'd marry someone else, forgetting all this ever happened.

Ginny, who was downstairs standing near the door in her gold dress, looked stunned as Hermione blew past her like a tempest, her face cold stone, grabbing Ginny by the wrist, saying nothing as she apparated out of Number Twelve with a quick spin on her heels.

With a muffled burst of air, they landed in the small city where Hermione's parents had grown up. The sun was shining brightly, and they walked spiritedly along the empty road, near a small lake with lilies floating peacefully on the surface, the cathedral towers looming over them in the morning mist. Even despite her cold-hearted resolve, Hermione sharply thought it was all so beautiful.

"Hermione, wait!" Ginny yelled, stumbling behind her, as Hermione nervously walked ahead, casting bright waves of spells on the ancient cathedral in a hushed voice, trying to remember all she had read the last few days. Her skirt rustled in the breeze, and her hair was flying back in loose curls.

Her heart was racing wildly despite her trying to control it. She would be seeing him again now … Her cheeks began flushing, and the grayness to her skin was disappearing at the thought.

She didn't know it – but with every step closer to Malfoy, she was getting her life back.

The spires of the cathedral grew taller as they neared, the sunlight glinting off the stained glass windows, casting glowing circles on the steps. She was walking purposefully through the garden lawns with the dew sparkling around her. Ginny was right behind, muttering under her breath about how difficult Hermione was being about the whole thing.

Suddenly, her legs stopped, and she stopped breathing. Near the entrance, she saw Malfoy, standing under a gothic arch, idly kicking stones, looking away from her, his hair glinting in the sunlight. Wearing black dress robes, Draco looked up as if sensing her there and their eyes met. She was melting … It felt like forever before they looked away from each other.

A sudden smirk alighted on his face, and he sauntered casually towards her. She took in an icy breath, steadying herself – this was no time to be slavering over Malfoy. Hermione walked by him, her face still stony, but her heart was trembling. She couldn't bear to think of how she really felt about him – about how much she really loved him.

He looked her up and down, "Granger," He drawled, making her knees turn liquid, "Not wearing white, I see." He smirked, "You trying to tell me something?"

"Malfoy," She said curtly, ignoring the shivers he sent up her spine, "I'm quite sure you don't wear white … unless it's your real wedding."

"You're awfully venomous this morning – more than usual, I'd say, "He suddenly laughed, "But it wouldn't be you unless you were yelling something sadistic at me, would it?"

"I don't understand why you're in such a good mood!" Hermione blustered, "What happened to that night when you said this was it? That we wouldn't survive the curse? When – when you were so concerned about what would happen? You said you didn't have any hope!"

"I still don't," He shrugged, "We're going to die, Granger. All's that left is just … let go of everything and live."

The sun suddenly shone in his face, lighting up his gray eyes, and she could see how pained he really was.

Hermione felt her eyes water, and she blinked them back, "And what if we don't die? What happens if we survive? ... What if we're killed for being together?" Her throat was closing up; she was afraid she had said too much.

He was silent, looking suddenly like he couldn't believe what she had just said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, "We're here, Granger. Isn't that all that matters?"

She didn't say anything, but his words cut through her steely resolve, making her imagine something greater than she'd ever thought possible. Just him and her … and nothing else.

They walked inside the dark passageway. The silence of the chapel and the chirping of the birds outside made her feel like she'd stepped into another world. She had never been here before - her parents always talked about it. She felt suddenly empty, missing them, wishing they weren't so far away. The place gave her a tranquil sense of peace, and she felt all her worries melt away.

"Snape's livid he's in a muggle church," Draco whispered laughingly, mirroring the peacefulness of the place. He looked around admiringly, "But it's not a bad place, Granger."

Her heart swelled as suddenly the darkness of the passageway disappeared, and she was standing in the heavenly gothic cathedral, filled with magnificent light. She gasped aloud as she looked up; the spiraling archway seemed to soar up forever. The chapel was nearly empty. The aisle was strewn with white roses … the whole church smelled like her favorite flower.

"Malfoy," She breathed incredulously, as they stepped over the soft petals, "Did you -Why – how did you – but you shouldn't have done this –"

"I'd never do something so sickeningly romantic," Draco said drily, "It was all Snape."

She laughed, her cheeks reddening at the absurd mental picture of Snape strewing flower petals in a church. Draco grinned with her, and he suddenly elbowed her, as he laughed harder.

She looked up at what made Draco laugh harder - Snape was walking towards them, his black robes billowing around him, his face sour as the sun hit him straight on in the face. Hermione stifled her giggles and Draco turned away, still laughing.

"And what, may I ask, is so unbelievably funny?" Snape asked in the most biting tones possible, "I do think you've forgotten you're likely to die in a matter of hours if we don't cast the vow."

"We'd forgotten all about that," Draco said sarcastically, "Thanks."

Snape scowled, kicking at a few roses at his feet, "Damn flowers!"

Just then, as Snape was assaulting white blossoms, a small scrap of paper fluttered out of Snape's right hand. Hermione bent down to pick up the crumpled parchment when she saw her own name peaking through the folds in Draco's handwriting.

"Malfoy," Hermione asked curiously, turning the paper over, "What's this?"

Snape went pale and Draco shot him a glare that could melt ice.

"Nothing," Draco said, looking away. Snape made a weak attempt to snatch it back.

"No, it isn't," Hermione said, her eyes running over the paper. She began to read aloud, her voice getting hysterical with each word, "Granger's a bushy-haired swot ... Bites her nails ... Probably can't cook ... Simpers around Saint Potter ... Dumbledore's minion ... Makes a badger face when she's thinking .. " She turned the parchment over, "Pretty ... Likes books ... Smells nice?!"

She looked up at him accusingly, "Malfoy, what the hell is this?"

Draco shrugged, "That was just a list of reasons why I shouldn't marry you. A Wrote it on the way over. Snape thought it might help. He worries about my inheritance more than I do." He gave Snape a smirk.

"A wholly useless exercise if you ask my opinion ... You were supposed to take it seriously." Snape said dully.

"Well, she didn't," Draco said, "Ask your opinion."

Hermione was too furious by the paper to listen to them, "So ... so the only reason you want to marry me is because I'm pretty, I read books, and I smell nice?" She stopped, blushing, "Hang on, what do I smell like?"

"... Like new books? Merlin, you ask too many questions. Shut up!"

"All right, I'll make my own list," Hermione said furiously, causing the parchment to blaze up in her hand, "Let me think. Why wouldn't I marry Malfoy? He's a prick .. You-know-who's servant ... looks like a silver puffer fish ... too much wax in his hair ... has 'sneer' wrinkles ..."

"Too far, Granger," Draco warned, "You go too far."

"Oh! Worried about your wrinkles, are you?" Hermione needled, "You've got more, you know, right there - over your forehead. I think they're scowl lines ... " She laughed seeing his worried expression, "And don't pretend like you're such a catch as if I'd fall over myself to have you. You're the most vain, egotistical, self-centered arse I've ever met! Not to mention a liar, an idiot, a coward ..." She went on, each word coming out faster and louder than the last.

"Bitch!" Draco yelled to match her tempo. "I can't believe I ever thought you were pretty, you whinging harpy!"

"I can't believe I let myself believe I loved you! You treat me like shit! You're the most -"

Hermione stopped, her face growing a pale shade of lavender. "I - I -"

Draco didn't smirk or say anything. He looked like he'd been frozen.

Snape put a hand to his temple, completely tuning out the bickering couple behind him. "While I greatly appreciate your reenactment of the war of the roses, there's nobody else to savor it. Why don't we make use of this empty cathedral and cast the vow ... so you two can go argue in the middle of Diagon Alley or something? Sell tickets?"

Hermione frowned at Snape, suddenly looking around, "Hang on, how DID you get everyone out of here? It's a Sunday!" Hermione asked curiously as she suddenly looked at the deserted chapel, "And what did you do with the Vicar?" She was afraid she didn't want to know.

She looked at Malfoy expectedly, wishing he wouldn't mention anything about the last few minutes, which had seen the most horrifying confession of love she'd ever heard in her life - and she'd been around Ron.

Draco broke out of his frozen haze in an instant as her soft eyes met his.

"The befuddlement charm will last us a good two hours, won't it, with the Vicar?" Draco asked Snape casually. He turned to Hermione, explaining, "Turns out he really likes being the bell-ringer." He laughed, but Hermione looked miserable.

"Oh Merlin, this is just awful." She felt so lost and alone. She didn't have Harry or Ron – and she needed them with her. This wasn't how she imagined her wedding. Not in the least. "There's nobody here. I don't have anyone."

Draco was quiet, looking at her as if he was reading her thoughts. He cleared his throat, and she looked up miserably.

Draco pointed to a couple sitting in the middle, wearing hats, looking confused. He looked like he was trying to hold back his desire to tell her something he'd been keeping from her. "See them? We tried getting all the muggles out of here, but couldn't get those two out, they insisted on staying," Draco said, "The idiots … calling themselves tourists on holiday … said they'd come here all the way from Perth, and they weren't going to leave unless they saw the wedding."

Hermione felt sobs tremble through her throat, feeling more alone by the second. They sounded like her family, and she missed them the most, more than Harry and Ron.

Draco let out a sigh of frustration, wishing she would catch on faster, "Granger … I think they're dentists."

She screamed, not knowing where the heartbreaking sound came from. Snape jumped back, as Hermione threw herself into Draco's arms, feeling like she'd break from joy.

She heard Draco laugh, and she felt him hold her closer to him. She let him go, looking again at the seated couple, her eyes unwilling to believe it. They looked confusedly at her, as tears streamed down Hermione's face. She didn't know what to say to them. Her heart raced wildly, and her guilt was swallowing her up from inside.

"Mum .." She said, walking closer to them, afraid to get closer, never thinking she'd see them again, and her face wet with tears. Her voice was strained, "Dad …"

The woman looked at Hermione warmly. "Wendell darling, doesn't the girl look beautiful?"

Her father stood up, smiling widely at her with his large front teeth, "Yes, she does. You'd make a beautiful bride … what is your name, my dear?"

She bit her lip from sobbing out loud, but she couldn't bear it, and the sound echoed in the vast cathedral desperately.

Draco was standing next to her in an instant, his hand supporting her back, his voice eerily joking,"Mr. Wilkins, you see Grange – the Mudblood here doesn't have her father around – she misplaced him somewhere, the stupid twit. Would you walk her down the aisle?"

Hermione had been sobbing into her hands, but suddenly felt herself laughing. Her heart was skipping from painful joy.

"I would be delighted!" Mr. Granger said, enunciating every word, bustling past his wife in the pew, and standing in front of her, holding out his arm proudly for Hermione to take. "There, there, don't cry!" He said, pulling out a hankie, "I'm sure your father would be very proud of you wherever he is. I bet you he's smiling down at you right now." His eyes were misted, and he grinned unknowingly at her.

Hermione smiled up at her father, the bitter happiness of having her parents not knowing who she was dying away. She was left with nothing but a longing gratitude to Malfoy for what he had done. How did he do it? She couldn't fathom anything anymore, feeling the shock wear away. She was expecting the worst day of her life … and he had given her the wedding of her dreams in an enchanting cathedral.

She was in heaven.

Just then, she felt Draco's leave her back, as he took a euphoric Mrs. Granger by the arm and seated her beside Ginny. Hermione was looking at Draco curiously. He was so different … she'd never seen him like this.

Draco Malfoy looked sincerely … happy.

Snape was rolling his eyes behind them all, telling Draco furiously, "Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you're quite finished, let's get on with it! ... I'd remind you and Miss Granger to refrain from your hate and indifference till the marriage vow is over. We need to deceive the curse, make it believe you're really in love, and that you're really going to live together."

Draco and Hermione shared a quick pained look - something Snape didn't miss, and he frowned.

Hermione looked suddenly sober, as Snape's words broke through her floaty happiness, and she looked down, suddenly remembering everything. More than she wanted to marry Malfoy, she wanted them to survive this. She had forgotten that they were here to break an ancient vow of blood. They were here fighting dark magic. But she'd barely know that, she was so happy.

The men walked to the other side of the magnificent cathedral, the arch emerging wide over them. Snape was standing soldierly at the alter, readying himself as if for a battle against the dark arts, mirroring Hermione's straightened-back pose. Draco and Blaise were standing beside him indifferently, and Ginny was smiling happily at her, tears filling her eyes.

She felt her feet move forward, her father beside her – it was impossible that he was here with her. Her honey-colored eyes met Draco's gray ones across the aisle, and he smiled bitterly. Suddenly there was a heavenly sound filling the entire cathedral – a woman was singing in Gaelic the wedding prelude – and Hermione felt like she was floating. It was finally happening. She walked slowly, savoring everything, drinking in everything around her.

The bittersweet memories of everything that had happened filled her - When they'd first met … the fights … the cave … The kiss … the statue … the curse … the secrets – everything was filled with meaning in that enchanting moment. Hermione felt at peace, letting it all go. She had stopped walking, and Draco was beside her, and she could see his face slightly flushed.

Ginny pressed a conjured bouquet of white flowers in her hand, fragrant as if they were still on the vine. Ginny grinned, "For luck," She said, and then gave Hermione a hug, "It was something new."

Draco laughed, "Mr. Wilkins can be our something old … and we're on borrowed time …" He pretended to think, "All that's missing is something blue. Granger, mind if I punch your eye? You know, for old time's sake?"

Blaise laughed loudly, and Ginny glared at him. Hermione stepped on Draco's foot hard. "Shut up, Malfoy! We're fighting dark magic! Could you be serious for once in your life?"

"No," He said drily, "I don't think so." He snarled, "Could you smile for once in yours?"

Snape regarded them down his hooked nose, "I agree with Miss Granger. This is not a lighthearted affair. We're breaking a medieval curse – we must be severe - follow tradition precisely or your lives could be forfeit." He cleared his throat, "Who here gives this maiden's hand in marriage?"

Mr. Granger took Hermione's small hands in his own trembling veined hands and placed them protectively in Draco's. Draco suddenly regarded her father sympathetically.

Snape began chanting in a strange tongue … and suddenly, the vows of marriage had begun. Hermione didn't expect the vows to sound so strange, but Snape was repeating the oldest vows known to man. He wasn't taking any chances. Snape chanted ceaselessly, and Draco looked antsy while they waited.

He smirked at Hermione, whispering in her ear, "What do you have on under there?"

"What?" She gasped, her cheeks turning red.

He let his finger brush against her shoulder, and she shivered. He smirked knowingly.

He held up the delicate straps of the slip under her argyles sweater, and murmured appreciatively, " ... least you've got on something white. That'll do better than this."

Suddenly, he swished his wand from his pocket, and her sweater and skirt ripped and vanished, leaving her standing in the cathedral in her white slip. She cried, slapping him across the face.

"MR. MALFOY!" Snape yelled, stopping his chant, his voice echoing across the ceiling, "That is enough! You will remember where you are. Do not distract me again." He said silkily, "And though I hate to agree with Draco, I do believe, Miss Granger, that is much better attire for your wedding. We need all the time-honored charms we can get." Snape began chanting again from the beginning over again, his voice melodic.

Hermione blushed crimson at Snape's words, and she heard Ginny and Blaise snickering behind her. She visibly relaxed, trying to calm herself - It wasn't so bad really – it was a knee-length slip made of silk trimmed with white lace – modest enough for church. Hermione looked at Malfoy, who raised his eyebrow at her teasingly. She groaned – he was impossible. But he was right in his infuriating way.

In some strange way, everything that was going wrong was suddenly going right.

She looked around her, at the warm morning light glimmering from the stained glass windows, at him in his black robes, and her in her … white slip. She was radiant. It felt oddly perfect. Harp music began softly, filling her ears, and Hermione closed her eyes, feeling like she flying again. There was nothing left to do but pray … pray that they'd live and be free from the curse. Her eyes closed, she prayed fervently for more time, her mouth moving soundlessly.

Draco's hands found hers somehow. He held it tightly, as if he was praying too. She opened her eyes, looking at him as if from a dream, his eyes were closed, listening with bowed head to the chanted vow. She looked at him, the solemn music swelling in her heart. She loved him … loved him desperately.

Her parents had tears streaming down their face as Snape's chants echoed. Ginny shivered, suddenly feeling the dark magic crackle around her. Something was growing stronger, trying to fight off the heavenly hymn.

Lights sparkled from the lit candles as if a fog had entered the church, and her parents looked surprised.

Snape slowly stopped, breathing deeply, looking down at them. "The rings," He whispered through gasps of icy breath. The curse was taking over him.

Blaise got up, slipping something in Draco's hand. and said hoarsely with badly contained emotion, "It wasn't meant for her, mate."

Draco looked down at the glimmering ring in his open palm - It was the emerald ring that belonged to his great-grandmother that he had given Pansy. He looked back at Blaise, who winked.

Her father walked slowly up to the aisle, handing Hermione the warm wedding ring he had worn for forty years. "Take this. It'll bring you good luck," He said softly, kissing her on the forehead, "I feel as if you two badly need it."

Draco looked at her, as she clung to her father, who didn't know who she was, all because she was trying to protect them from Voldemort's regime.

Snape chanted sonorously, "Do you, Draco Arcturus, take Hermione Jane as your wife? Do you solemnly vow to honor and protect her, love and cherish her till death do you part?"

Hermione held her breath, waiting for something to go wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to feel like this. They were just breaking a curse … just breaking a curse …

"Till death do us part." He said with a dark chuckle, and his words were soft, as if it was coming from the depths of the darkest soul. She felt him hold her hand in his gently, the emerald ring sliding up her finger, sparkling in the light. She felt the earth shift under her feet – time was moving quickly, leaving her behind.

"Do you, Hermione Jane, take Draco Arcturus as your husband? Do you solemnly vow to honor and obey him, love and cherish him till death do you part?"

She felt winded ... she looked up at his gray eyes, her heart feeling so full. "I do so swear," She whispered, gliding the warm small silver band on his hand, and Snape finished the sacraments of marriage.

"I declare you bonded for life." He said slowly, meaning every word. He held up his wand, and sparks flew from it, showering them in a bright surge of spraying lights. Draco's gaze were unbreakable, he was looking deeply at her through the luminous sparks.

A young boy began singing Il Dolce Suono, filling the cathedral with a heaveny sound that made her heart leap. She suddenly realized she didn't care if they lived or died – if this was the end, then she couldn't even describe how she wanted him.

Hermione walked closer to him, whispering, "Kiss me."

Draco laughed, his lips brushing lightly against hers teasingly, before he kissed her softly. Suddenly she felt hot warmth go through her heart – this was what it felt like to be truly happy. It felt like she could disappear in that kiss – in his sweet lips. She felt him run his hands up her arm, and she pulled his face closer. The small addiction they had felt before had suddenly rushed forward full force as it had never done before, blinding them in desire.

They broke apart, breathing unevenly.

Blaise was whistling, and Snape just looked at them curiously, as if he trying to understand what it was that was really between them. He brought down his wand and the shower of bright sparks on their clasped hands, finishing the vow.

Everyone cheered and threw a rushing flurry of flower petals all around them, blinding her as they fell gently on her shoulders and his hair. The lights from Snape's wand sparked against their rings.

Then suddenly, something went terribly wrong.

Hermione felt an odd prickling of the scar on her wrist, as if it was suddenly burning. She looked up at Malfoy knowingly across the dazzling light, and their eyes were filled with a sudden fear.

Suddenly, the pain from the scar erupted, and Hermione nearly screamed. The sound of her scream would have echoed were it not for the sudden explosion around them that seemed to burst from their hands. It was a deafening sound, pure darkness. The blast burst outward, shattering the stained glass shrilly, sending down splinters of colored glass. Everyone fell back from the force of it. A howling wind broke around them, angrily surging through the cathedral like a dark force.

Hermione felt nothing but pain as the world collapsed around her. She didn't have strength to scream. In what felt like seconds, Hermione gasped, feeling weak and strangely drained. The first thing she felt was her weak hand, holding on to something. The ceiling was crumbling slowly around her. She was on her back, and Draco was lying over her, shielding her from the explosion. She held up her hand over his shoulder – it was bleeding profusely from the wrist. She heard distant yelling, and suddenly felt Malfoy move against her, pulling her to her feet in the hazy fog of wood and glass. They stood up shakily, looking around them. As the dust settled, Hermione noticed to her relief that no one was hurt.

Snape walked swiftly to them over the broken beams, his hair dusty, "You're not hurt?" He asked, looking at them. Glancing at their bleeding wrists, he spoke a healing charm, slowing the gushing blood. Ginny and Blaise walked over to them, worriedly looking between her and Malfoy, looking as if they hadn't understood the depths of the dark curse.

Draco looked at Snape, his voice shaky, "Do you think … that was it?" He was breathing harshly, his chest rising quickly.

"I think," Snape looked between them both meaningfully, as the last of their wounds healed, "I think … the curse has been broken. We'll have to wait to make sure ... but the dark vow has been released." He looked at them, "You're free ... It's over."

The words were suddenly painful. Hermione looked at Draco, but he didn't meet her eyes. Suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Granger stumbled to them, and Hermione let go of Draco's hand to hug them tightly.

"Strewth, I think that was an air raid!" Her father said, "You right, my dear?"

Hermione nodded. She looked back at Draco, at his handsomely dirty face, and they broke apart from everyone. Ginny was helping Snape and Blaise repair the cathedral. The glass flew back to the window, the shattering sounds of glass in reverse.

"What now?" She asked Malfoy, her heart beating painfully. It was all over … and suddenly, she was afraid that she'd miss it - everything that had happened between them.

"Don't know." He said quietly, looking away, "I've told my house-elf to take them back to Australia, the Wilkins ... Nice name, by the way," He smirked.

Hermione gave him a withering look.

Draco looked at the stained glass window, suddenly quiet. "Do you … want to come with me?"

She drew a long breath. "Where?"

Draco looked at her deeply, "To the Manor … anywhere. We could leave it all, get out of here, run away. Just … us."

She grinned, unable to bear the happiness in her lungs. She suddenly looked back at everyone around them, and felt their world crashing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice pained from fear, "Malfoy … don't say things you don't mean."

His eyes blazed angrily, "What are you afraid of?"

It's not like that!" She said desperately, "How can we run away … now? What about your family? What if the Death Eaters find out? What'll happen to your mother? Shouldn't you stay … and protect them? And I can't leave the Order just now. It'll be too cowardly –"

"So that's how it is, is it?" Draco scoffed, growing cold, stepping away from her. "You're not going to fight this?"

"Yes, that's how it is," She said, wondering how it had come to this. She stepped to him desperately, but his eyes were cold.

"We have to do the right thing … Draco." She said his name painfully, and a flicker of a smile passed across his face. She felt the tears swelling up, knowing she had to do this, "If we're together … they'll kill us … they'll kill you!" And tears streamed down her face as she said it, "We can't do this! We broke the curse! That's it! We shouldn't see each other anymore. It's too dangerous … And – and – you're marrying Pansy, aren't you? That's – that's who you're supposed to be with, not me! N- not a mudblood-"

"Shut up, Granger," He said angrily, walking to her in one stride, "And don't ever say that word again."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes large with surprise. He was angry – not with her – but with the world that was forcing them apart. Hermione felt her heart skipping lightly again … could she hope – could they actually be together? Could they risk their lives every day, wondering when they'd be caught by his family? By Voldemort? Did she have the courage to be with him in the middle of a war?

Suddenly, Draco grunted, his eyes wincing, as he grasped his arm.

"What?" She asked urgently, peering down to his pained face, "Draco, what's wrong? Is it the curse again?"

He was clutching his arm fiercely, "It's -" He grunted, "- the Mark."

She gasped, walking to him closer slowly. She let her arm hesitantly trace the folds of his robes - at his wrist, where she saw the last flicker of a glimmering snake - the Dark Mark. She held him up on to her shoulder, entangling her hair under his arms. Blaise ran over, looking horrified.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked desperately, her eyes stinging, "What's happening to him?"

"It's a summoning," Blaise said, sounding horrified, "We've got to go now."

Blaise took Draco's arm from Hermione's shoulder, and held him up, the sleeves of his robes revealing a clean arm with no mark. Suddenly, Hermione gasped, looking out the window. Snape turned sharply, his face growing pale. The sunny sky had suddenly darkened - large, inky forms were swooping from the sky to the ground like black smoke - Dementors. The cathedral was growing dark, as if it was suddenly night.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked, her hands unconsciously reaching for Draco.

"They're storming an attack," Draco said quietly, "There must have been a lot of victims. I've never seen so many of them like this. They're headed for london. We're safe here ... but you've got to go into hiding."

Hermione met his gray muted eyes with her fearful ones. She knew what that meant – there was a Death Eater attack somewhere in london right now - now. She felt the tears swim up, knowing that the Order would be summoned soon after. The suddenness of everything was too close for comfort.

"Granger, promise me you won't fight with them! Promise me!" He said dangerously.

"I can't," She said helplessly, "There's not many of us left. If there's an attack, I have to go -"

He ran his hands through his hair, looking murderous, "Granger, you're not listening to me. They're looking for you! If they capture you -"

"There's no escape for us," She whispered hollowly to him, "This is it. He's too powerful this time. There's too many Death Eaters, and it's just a matter of time before the Order is destroyed. They won't stop till they kill every last one of us."

"Granger, -" He said, his voice desperate, "I'll protect you - you'll be safe. I won't let it happen. I can hide you ... and everyone else -"

She shook her head furiously, knowing it would be impossible and too dangerous. If Voldemort found out Draco was hiding her, he would destroy him and his family.

She looked away from his blazing gray eyes, suddenly afraid that it would be the last time she'd see them. Why did it have to feel so light and airy today? Why did he look so hopeful when she knew they weren't going to make it? She felt her life drain from her again. All that happiness from the wedding now left a gaping chasm in her heart.

"Draco, we're enemies. We can't help it. We're going to die fighting each other." She said hopelessly, trying to be strong.

She had to give him the strength to go back to his world - so they'd be safe. Her hands trembled with the ring, trying to glide it off and give it back to him. Her eyes were swimming with tears, unable to do it.

Draco walked to her, suddenly stopping her hand. "Don't," He said hoarsely, pressing the ring into her skin, causing a pleasurable pain to coarse through her. He commanded hoarsely, "Keep it."

He pulled himself away, just as she felt the tears sting her eyes. She felt like her lungs were on fire.

"You've got to leave, Miss Granger," Snape said weakly, "Now."

She sobbed, she had to look at Draco once more - this couldn't be how it ended. Ginny tugged at her arm, and pulled her out the church, into the midday sun that was blotted by the black clouds of dementors rushing across the sky furiously.

The war was just beginning.

Hermione turned back to look at him one last time, but he was already gone.

Her mind was collapsing from agony … it was a different sort of pain from the curse … it was as natural as breathing. In a matter of hours, the Order would be openly fighting against him, and she would be helping them destroy him. Death was more welcome than this … a cursed life … where she had fallen in love with her worst enemy.

She was standing on the edge, unable to turn back.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Torture**

* * *

Hermione arrived back at Order headquarters in a daze. She could barely understand what had happened, the feeling of the warm sun still burning her skin. They had broken the blood curse they had made a year ago – but now, they were bound in a Wizarding marriage, which was the most powerful vow in the world. She had felt it the moment they said the words, and when they kissed - something had changed. Something magical was holding them together now – something cleaner and purer than the dark magic of the blood promise. She quickly slipped the emerald ring in her pocket - hiding it. The cold stone was the most delightful thing her hand had ever touched - there was nothing that reminded her of him more.

Suddenly, Hermione was brought back to reality as she entered the front door of Grimmauld Place. There were people rushing about frantically – muddy footprints soiled the carpets, and the umbrella stand was turned over. Her feet stumbled downstairs on their accord to the kitchen, and she heard the loudest yells coming from inside. Opening the cellar door, she found the highest Order members rushing about furiously, holding maps of St. Mungos's in their arms, yelling at everyone. She swept past ghostly specters of hundreds of patronuses, like wisps of blue smoke curling around her hair – more than she'd seen ever all at once. Ginny whispered something behind her, but Hermione could barely hear anything but the yelling. Bill and Charlie were devising a strategy, giving a lecture on the underground tunnels of the hospital, while younger members of the Order were listening attentively, nevertheless looking deathly nervous. Just then, Tonks brushed past Hermione out the door, barely seeing her. Remus was staring after Tonks, his face pale, gripping the table with white fingers. Molly was shrieking at him, telling him to go after her. Kingsley and Moody suddenly burst through the fire – Number Twelve was in pandemonium.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked Bill, and he looked up at her, his blue eyes terrifyingly sober.

"There's been an attack – St. Mungo's – we've been sending our best. But there's nothing we can do. Our numbers are too small," He said, and the crowd seemed to swell with every word. Order members were rushing past her, pushing her into him. Bill yelled over her head, "Vance, I want you to back up Podmore – we've just lost Lee Jordan and the Creeveys," Bill wiped his brow, "God rest their souls."

Hermione's face couldn't have been paler. Didn't Draco tell her – didn't she see the Dark Mark gleaming on his arm – didn't she know there would be a summons for an attack? Why didn't she warn the Order sooner? Her heart was tearing itself apart – guilt was consuming her. Just a moment, she had been with her worst enemies – Malfoy, Snape, and Zabini. And for better or worse, she was now a Malfoy herself. If the Order only knew …

"I've got George – he and Neville have gotten some of the healers out, and most of the wards. Fred is still holding them off with the others," Arthur yelled over the crowd, holding a telephone in his hand. He and some of the Weasleys had successfully been using muggle devices since the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry. It had proved surprisingly useful, considering Hermione had set it up herself.

Someone screamed near the door as they discovered the fate of the Creeveys and Lee Jordan.

Hermione felt waves of pain slice through her lungs – what was she supposed to do? Who was she now she was married to Malfoy? Who was she supposed to side with? She felt frozen in every way, letting herself get jostled by the Aurors running past her.

"Oh God," Remus spoke softly, his brittle hair falling in his eyes, as he mouthed the message from a silvery patronus. "They're killing all the muggles. It's a massacre."

A deathly quiet fell at his words. Everyone was standing still, not moving.

She heard Bill say hoarsely beside her, his icy resolve sparkling in his eyes, "That's it. Nobody's staying back here anymore. We're not letting them get away with this." He moved swiftly out the door, his arms locked fiercely with Fleur's. Remus didn't wait a second, and a host of Order members followed him with a furious storming.

She breathed in deeply, feeling the ice that had frozen her feet melt away. She didn't have to think twice to know who she really was, and what she had to do – She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a Gryffindor to the end, no matter what happened, no matter who she was married to. What happened with Malfoy could never change who she was. She would die fighting, saving muggles and everyone who was being killed by those prejudiced Death Eaters – she realized with a bitter anger that she hated everything Draco stood for. When she had left him this morning, the pain was killing her – the memory of the warm sunshine was destroying her. She had thought she'd return to Grimmauld Place and drown in misery. But now, there was no time for all that.

Her feet were moving on their own after everyone – and she suddenly felt Kingsley's strong arm on hers, holding her back. He said forcefully in his thick voice, "Harry Potter wanted you to stay. Those were his orders before he left. You're not going anywhere."

She was one of the last people remaining, and Hermione was not going to stay back during this battle – not when they were losing fighters so rapidly. She was being held back by everyone – and she wasn't taking it anymore. She pushed Kingsley away stormily. "You tell this to Harry if you see him," She spat angrily, her eyes blazing, "That the last person who needs protecting now is ME."

Kingsley tightened his grip on her arm, but she fought him off, grabbing her wand and holding it in front of her. "Stay away from me," She said, breathing hard.

Molly was standing next to Kingsley, protesting, "Hermione, what's gotten into you? You can't leave."

"Just try and stop me," Hermione's lips curved in a threatening sneer.

They drew back at the menacing look in her eyes, even Kingsley who was twice her size. Something was storming inside her – and nobody could stop it. She had never felt this much fury before. Everything that had made her shrink from fear before was turning to rage as she felt the world collapse around her. Muggles were being slaughtered … her friends were dying trying to protect them … innocent healers were caught in the battle. And she was married … to one of them ... to one of those heartless people who were doing it. As her feet pounded the pavement, she barely recognized herself – she was someone else. It was as if being married to Malfoy gave her soul some supernatural strength. It nearly frightened her how heated she felt.

Apparating into the street, Hermione could never have imagined such terror could exist. The cries of innocent muggles in the street were painful. The yells from the streets were drowned by the terrified screams of people running for their lives inside. The strong lights were all out – it was just glimmering little bursts of wand light between corridors. Orbs were shattered, the chairs overturned, and portraits were lying ripped up on the floor. She saw the pointed cloaks of the Death Eaters running past her in the hallways – but they were so far away. Suddenly, she heard an almighty crash overhead – more screams - and the ceiling crumbled, sending showers of dust on everyone. Pushing everyone out of the way, Hermione groaned as the weight of the floor above fell on her shoulder. But she got up, growling from the fierce anger surging through her, and stood up, breathing hard. Hermione ran quickly to find the rest of the Order, her hair tousled, her feet crunching over glass and bits of the ceiling.

She saw Neville, his face covered in soot, running at her, pulling her into a warm hug, "Hermione! You're here!"

Just as quickly as she saw him, he disappeared from her arms, leaving her alone in the empty entryway. The reception desk was empty; it was splintered, and everything was chaos. More bloodcurdling screams from above – and Hermione's sharp mind came together. She looked up, her brown eyes sweeping past the open floors above her, as she remembered instantly the floor plans from her fifth year.

Hermione turned quickly, hearing a feeble moan. A witch in Healer's robes was lying on the floor nearby, holding her gashed arms. Hermione rushed to her side, knowing she could do nothing to save.

"How many Death Eaters? Where are they?" She whispered to the witch urgently.

The witch shook her head faintly, "Twenty – maybe more. They said we were going to die for healing muggles … second floor –"

Hermione got up quickly, steely determination in her eyes, as the witch cried out for her to stay. Rushing through the deserted entrance hall and hurtling past the double doors hanging on their hinges, she ran, her mind focusing on the distant voices upstairs. There could have been more than fifty people up there from what she could hear – doubtlessly, most of them Death Eaters overpowering the Order. She ran through the ominously empty corridor – the crystal baubles shattered, leaving only a few candles to float hauntingly above her. The oak paneled walls were broken apart – as if the Death Eaters had burst through them.

Her resolve quickening, she burst through the double doors to the flight of stairs. As she ran up, her heart beating quickly, the sounds of the battle above was so clear now – she knew them all by their voices.

Her hand stayed on the door to the second floor, and she felt the last of the fear wash over her. All the waiting, hiding, and calm of the last few weeks were at their end – all those secret meetings with Malfoy, all those nights spent wishing she was fighting – everything was over. She needed to remember how to fight again – she had forgotten so much ever since Malfoy came back in her life. Her life was crashing back over her now. But she knew, it was the life she had been born for. This was her destiny - to fight Death Eaters. To fight him.

A sudden resentment burst through her, destroying any dread she had felt. She held her breath, her wand aloft, and pushed the door open - the crashes, screams, cursing, and spells flying past her, whizzing through the air. It was a maze of brilliant blue, crimson and green curses. The few Order members were being picked off. She gasped - the Death Eaters had grown in number than she'd thought possible. They were astonishingly good at their curses.

But Hermione was stone. She raised her arm, sending dark curses soaring out her wand. The bluish light burst from her like lightning, breaking on the chests of several Death Eaters, who didn't even have the time to look up. They fell over, and Hermione stepped over their unmoving bodies swiftly, pushing Seamus out of the way as a curse was about to strike him. She twisted over her shoulder to throw one back at the Death Eater, who turned out to be a Slytherin from her year, Theodore Nott. She realized as they fell quickly around her as if they'd never seen battle, that these were the weaker Death Eaters fighting their equally inexperienced Order counterparts. She wasted no more time over there anymore, and began looking for Remus, Bill, or Moody on the other side of the room, where the curses were flying more densely like an electric fog.

She stumbled to them, her heart thundering in her chest.

She heard an unbearable shriek – and saw Fleur fall over, her blond hair spread across on the floor, as Macnair laughed cruelly over her. Bill rushed over, but was caught in the face by a shaggy-bearded Lestrange, who sent a curse at him so strong Hermione could smell the singeing of his flesh. The fog of curses parted – and she saw more silhouettes of the Death Eaters – silently circling their victims, laughing together. They hadn't seen her yet. McGonagall and Moody were looking pale-faced as the Lestranges cast another curse at Remus, and he fell to the floor – it was only later she saw that they had ripped through his skin, forcing Remus' insides to expel out his body tortuously. Her breath caught in her throat – the Death Eaters had become something so unimaginably powerful.

Hermione couldn't deny it any longer - they were losing. All she could hear were her friends screaming as a quick curse caught them one second too soon. Just then, Fred and George pulled out a dark casket – she knew what was inside – their own Peruvian darkness powder, secretly improved to blind only those who've smelt its gunpowder odor. They threw it down on the ground, and quickly cast their hands over their faces, and she did the same. The Death Eaters didn't even know what was different with it, as they suddenly yelled incoherently from the darkness.

It could give them only seconds.

Everyone on her side cast the impediment jinx on the blinded mass of Death Eaters. But Hermione's heart didn't stop her – they deserved so much more than that. It wasn't enough – they needed to feel pain. For everything they've done – killed countless muggles, tortured and murdered her friends, ruined her life … blinded the man she loved with their prejudice … - they needed to suffer. Her body crackled with fury. She looked at the mass of Death Eaters, her heart suddenly fearing he was one of them. She brought down her wand silently, breathing coldly.

"Fiendfyre."

Fire erupted all around the room – lighting up the darkness – it was the most powerful curse she had ever spoken. She could barely restrain it – but she brought up her wand, as she saw the cruel faces of Rodolphus and Fenrir – and she let the curse go. It looked like a soaring dragon - or a gryffin - baring its wide mouth to devour them, as the Death Eaters stumbled back. The fire erupted on their skin, fluttering like a golden flag ias they writhed like Fleur and Remus before them. Her heart was racing from anxiety, but she didn't care. This was justice.

Before they were lifeless, she brought the fire back to her wand, her breaths coming in quick gasps, her arms searing from pain. The Death Eaters beyond them were still lost in darkness, sending blind spells that hit the walls. She turned to see that McGonagall and Moody was staring at her frightened, but Aberforth next to her gave Hermione a warm smile that nearly cracked through her icy façade, almost making her feel as vulnerable as she did the last time she'd seen him.

But her dark curses was what the rest of the Order needed – they suddenly found strength in Hermione's suddenly power that had sent three of Voldemort's strongest to their knees. Soon everyone were throwing the strongest curses they knew – nearly half of the Death Eaters before them were now unconscious and … dead. It was Charlie who had yelled the killing curse first. This was what had become of the Order - they had once vowed never to become like them - to not give in to the dark arts. But they were in a dark city – they were nearly defeated – if they wanted to do anything, to help those unfortunate muggles who were going to be annihilated, if they wanted to live – they had to give in to darkness. They couldn't get by on sheer luck. There was no other choice.

The unmistakable shriek of Bellatrix Lestrange sent a piercing shiver down her spine.

Hermione couldn't stop herself – she was becoming stronger every second – the shriek suddenly brought her mind into focus. The Death Eaters suddenly stormed forward angrily, throwing silver curses that sent her and everyone to their feet. The killing curse was flying thickly, but Bellatrix was the one with the most victims.

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix shrieked again, killing Kingsley Shacklebolt instantly as he tried to get to his feet.

Hermione got up instantly, faster than anyone else, not even bothering to hold her hand over her head, as she screamed the killing curse herself, just as Bellatrix ducked, and the red curse hit a stunned Rookwood – he was down quickly, his eyes glassy. Hermione gasped as if she had taken a lungful of icy water. She looked at the lifeless body wordlessly, blind to the spells flying over her. She felt tears sting her eyes – she had become momentarily numb with grief as her heart burst open wretchedly. How did it all come to this?

Bellatrix looked at her curiously through the fog of dust.

"Why, it's the famous mudblood," She cackled, "Got a taste of your first kill?" She rocked on her heels leeringly, "Why don't you try that again … Hermione?"

At Bellatrix' words, Draco's head shot up quickly. Hermione's heart gave a bittersweet jolt as she saw him again between the hazy forms of Death Eaters in front of him. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, his hair in his eyes, and his gray eyes – the gray eyes she could never understand.

The room was suddenly filled with the dark bluish light again. But it felt like the night had just begun. As the battle erupted around them again, Bellatrix licked her lips, screaming a curse, which Hermione deflected quickly. Hermione threw a dark curse at her, which came rushing back at her in an instant. She ducked swiftly as it crashed behind her.

The walls shattered, as Bellatrix circled her quickly, "Relashio!"

Hermione was too quick.

"Protego!" Hermione held up a shield charm – which suddenly protected her in a enormous shimmering barrier that acted like a bubble, reflecting the curses back at the Death Eaters, who looked suddenly taken aback at the strangely powerful magic. Hermione walked forward slowly, holding her shield aloft, so the Order could get behind her - the Death Eaters would see them clearly as they destroyed them. Her resolve nearly collapsed as she thought that he'd be there too. Her feet struck the floor slowly, echoing. She could feel his eyes on her even if she didn't know where he was, and it gave her an agonizing thrill. She was different now than this morning – something had changed. There was fire in her eyes. Hermione stood framed in the dark blue light, her face severe with determination. She looked frightening.

Reserved from the battle, Draco was watching her, mesmerized and impressed, a conceited smirk breaking across his icy face.

Hermione was oblivious to everything but the battle. The Order was hurling hexes quickly around her, and they had twenty Death Eaters down already. If they could just keep the momentum -

Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy strode in between them, unable to take defeat, "Serpensmordre!"

A powerful green curse disintegrated Hermione's shield, making it crash and effervesce around them, and seemed to bite her with a paralyzing venom. Hermione stumbled back, her arm in blinding pain.

The twenty Death Eaters remaining suddenly rounded on them – and she felt someone pull her back. But it was too late to retreat. There was a sudden burst of blinding light – as the floor collapsed under them with a powerful curse. Her ankle went through the ground, and she struggled momentarily, before the entire floor dissolved, and she heard herself scream as if from a distance.

In a second, she was rising unsteadily to her feet, they were in the entrance hall – there were bodies scattered around, under heaps of stone. She let out a strangled sob.

There were some of her side still fighting the Death Eaters who were advancing menacingly, and she joined them gratefully. The Death Eaters were moving together … no, they were marching … their hoods over their faces, a sinister grin on their faces as their curses hit her repeatedly. The unforgiveable curses were screamed over and over again, and she felt herself turn to molten fire spite being riddled with dark curses, she held her ground as the pain grew in her arm, paralyzing her muscles from Lucius' curse.

The Order was falling back … and her strength was declining.

Bellatrix stepped forward slowly from the host of Death Eaters, calling Lucius in a sickening voice, "Why don't you tell Dumbledore's ickle lemmings the good news, Lucius? That we just found Potter? Once the Dark Lord returns from Bulgaria ... there'll be no more of you left. Potter's been screaming in Azkaban, waiting for you lot to join him. There's no use fighting. Just give up, and we won't feed you to the snakes." She laughed at the shocked faces before her.

"N-no …" In a derailing second, Hermione felt herself tremble violently. Bellatrix' words drained all her strength in an instant. She felt her world collapse painfully. This was it. It really was the end. She could feel everyone standing by give up slowly as they knew the truth.

They were going to lose.

She stumbled back with them beside her, still holding out her wand, but feeling like no spell would ever come out of it. The Death Eaters rained curses on them – and they all fell, one by one. She couldn't stop it anymore, all her fury and anger from before had vanished. She felt like she was looking at everything through distant eyes. The fire was burning through the hospital, and everything was aflame – everything was being destroyed.

The fire was blazing around her.

What would happen to everyone now that the Order had finally fallen? She didn't know what life was going to bring – if anyone would live beyond this miserable day. She wondered if she should be standing there with them. Just then, a sudden golden flame erupted in front of her, and a tiny phoenix feather floated down. She looked finally at the people she was fighting with – and they looked quickly at her as they saw Fawkes last feather. If she didn't know it was the end of the Order of the Phoenix before – she knew it now in that heartbreaking moment. All Hermione could hear were the swishing sounds of ropes pouring from the Death Eaters' wands as the Order was being tied up painfully. As Bill finally collapsed next to her, Hermione felt her knees give way, and she crouched beside him, trying to wake him up. She was the last one still left conscious … as if they were saving her for something.

Bellatrix' coarse hand caressed Hermione's face violently. She fussed when Hermione flinched. She slinked back, standing beside Lucius, as they surveyed Hermione smilingly, "Do you want to do the honors, Lucius? We've got them all – that entire filthy Order - but we're sure you'd want her first. You've been dying for a chance at torturing fiery little mudbloods, haven't you? Especially this one?"

Bellatrix cackled, as if waiting for this moment all night. She grinned, standing up to look down at Hermione, her wild hair looking wilder against the blazing fire.

Lucius smirked, his cold foot sliding up Hermione's face, making her grimace, "I'll let Draco do that ... He can have a chance to make up for that pitiful night at Hogwarts years ago."

Hermione started violently. His words made her entire body tremble. This couldn't be happening. Just moments ago, she had brought several Death Eaters down. And now, she had to see him torture her … Her heart was racing wildly against her neck - she could actually feel it.

It felt like ages before she heard slow footsteps draw near … it must have been him.

"Draco," Lucius said icily, saying nothing more. It was all in that one word - what he wanted him to do.

Hermione looked up slowly, her hands still entwined around Bill as they took him forcibly away, and she was sure she had stopped breathing that instant.

Draco was looking down at her, his hair shimmering in the dreadful fire behind him. He looked at her as Hermione lay at his feet. His eyes were quiet, and he looked years older than what he really was. The fire was spreading all around them – lighting up his face in slashes of light. She thought she'd never see him look so weary – and then her eyes caught his hand, holding his wand … something in the way he held it made her suddenly afraid that he wasn't going to do it – he wasn't going to follow his father's orders. She felt her heart suddenly constrict – he was going to do something dangerous … and he was going to risk his life trying to save her. They couldn't discover that there was something between them – Draco would be destroyed.

She thought grimly how she'd really changed since this morning … she was worried about him now, not caring what happened to her. If anyone could see her face, they might have seen the first tears break her steely resolve … she was no longer a Gryffindor all by herself anymore. She was in love with her darkest enemy … and, even now, when she couldn't have been more vulnerable, she knew Draco needed his life more than she did.

She looked at him pleadingly, hoping he'd see the fear in her eyes, and understand she didn't want him to fight for her. Not now. Not when they didn't have a chance. Maybe someday … they could be free.

Draco's eyes were soft, and there was a hesitant smile. He looked unchanged, his wand slipping slowly from his hand, as if he was about to give up.

Hermione's hands were white as she suddenly felt fear explode from her lungs. If they did something to him for not torturing a mudblood … she looked up at him, the tears welling in her eyes desperately.

Not now, Malfoy, please, no! Don't let them find out … they'll hurt you … do what they want - torture me …

He shook his head imperceptibility, his eyes glaring angrily as he saw the tears stream down her face. His hand suddenly gripped hard around his wand, as if unyielding to her begging. He knew … he knew what she crying for … and he wasn't worth her sacrifice … He couldn't have her breaking. He looked her in the eyes, finally letting her hear the silent thoughts he had hidden from the world. His eyes were angry and forceful, forcing her to believe.

Someday ... Granger ... things will be better. I promise you ... All this will be gone ... Someday, Granger, we'll be together ...

Sobs broke through her, unable to imagine the pure paradise he believed would happen one day. The sobs echoed desperately as the Death Eaters waited around him hungrily for her blood. There was no other way - they had to make it through all this. They deserved that someday. They couldn't be weak now. She looked at him, finding all the strength she had, her eyes blazing strongly, her words gasping through her.

"Do … it … coward."

Yaxley and Goyle moved forward, their teeth bared at her nerve, about to hit her with the curse themselves. With one quick glance at their ready wands, Draco's face filled with a sudden panic, his face growing white.

He brought down his wand, his words blazing, "Crucio."

.

In that moment, they knew hell.

She didn't know why – but his curse sounded soft to her ears. As the pain erupted in her nerves, her bones set on fire, her eyes watering from sobs and the stinging in her body, she was glad he was the one to do it – he was gentle somehow. If her world was going to collapse around her, at least he would be safe. She would have died than have their secret destroy him.

The pain ripped through her – it seemed endless. This was their life – this was her fate. The grief was agonizing … she never knew her heart could bear so much pain and still live through it. The excruciating pain tore her apart, slashing through her.

She was finally broken.

The curse lifted, and through cloudy eyes, she saw him. Sweat beaded down his hair, and his eyes were blotched with pure anger, hot tears spilling down his face. He was breathing raggedly as if the torture had been for him. She tried to smile at him - tell him it would be okay ... somehow. But she didn't have the strength to move. Suddenly, she felt someone bind her arms with tight ropes, and her eyes closed serenely, her breath even and calm – he was safe - that was all that mattered. She didn't know what was going to happen - what her cruel life had in store for her - and she was sorry this was all they had together after their wedding.

Torture.

Through the darkness of sleep, she felt the wild fire grow stronger, licking through the magical building, bringing it to the ground. The heat of it nearly burned her. She heard harsh laughter, and someone stand beside Draco proudly, facing her.

"Dump her with the others. We're running out of room in Azkaban these days … with all this filth."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I will be updating this story with a new chapter a week until the end. Next chapter: Azkaban. In which Hermione is taken to the wizarding prison along with the rest of the Order.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: **

**Welcome to Azkaban**

* * *

When she came to, although her mind was foggy and she could barely think straight. Hermione could tell that her arms and legs bound tightly, and she was being carried somewhere. She struggled to move but could barely lift her elbows.

She thought she heard muffled voices close by, but everything was dark; there was something covering her face and she could barely breathe.

In a sudden rush, the stifling, smelly cloth covering her face flew off, and she gasped for breath as she found herself staring into the sneering faces of three of Voldemort's Death Eaters: Yaxley, Mulciber and Goyle, who were all looking down at her. The sky behind Yaxley's pockmarked face was grey and overcast.

"Welcome to Azkaban, bitch," Yaxley spat savagely, as Mulciber and Goyle chuckled.

She played those words over and over in her mind with growing horror and panic. They were standing on that infamous rocky island, looking up at the massive fortress, the inescapable hell where few ever left alive. The dark towers of Azkaban loomed above them menacingly, a picture of evil and terror she had only ever seen before in the Daily Prophet, and Hermione was to be its newest inmate.

She couldn't tell when she had started to take in shallow breaths, but her chest was rising and falling so rapidly that her face was draining of color.

Suddenly, a wailing cry pierced the air.

"What was that?" Goyle asked, so startled he had thrown himself against the wall and had his arms raised to shield himself.

"One of the prisoners?" Mulciber asked, his eyes wide. "They're always screaming."

"I don't know, it sounded strange," Goyle said, glancing at Hermione, "Maybe we should come back in the morning."

"We've got our orders, we're staying till we're done," Yaxley sneered at him.

The hollow screaming sound began again and Goyle's eyes grew wide as saucers.

It was then that Hermione made out the dementors circling the tallest tower of the prison, their screeching growing shriller and more insistent. Suddenly, as if they sensed her presence, they went completely motionless, and their faceless hoods turned with growing interest at the new visitors passing through the gate miles below.

Hermione could feel Goyle and Mulciber shudder, and saw Yaxley lower his eyes away from their penetrating stare.

"The sooner we leave, the better," Mulciber whispered feverishly, "I really don't like this place."

She heard a reverberating clatter of iron gates being raised and rusty locks turning on their hinges, and she could feel herself being invisibly carried into a cavernous tunnel underneath the prison as the Death Eaters accompanied her. They walked along in silence broken only by the heavy thuds of Goyle's boots and Yaxley's quick nervous shuffle.

It got darker and darker in the tunnel until suddenly, the spell holding her up was removed and she fell to the ground.

Goyle, Yaxley and Mulciber were standing apart, while she had been placed onto a lift that went up to the prison above.

"I hear the dementors suck away all the happy memories you've ever had," Goyle said, trying to smile maliciously but looking nervous, "And you're left with nothing. They don't have to kill you; you'll do that yourself. Won't want to eat. Can't, even if you did. There's no sleep. Oh, and the best part. They take some of the prisoners down to a dungeon, where they -"

"Goyle, Goyle, Goyle, you're givin' it all away, leave something to the imagination, will ya?" Yaxley said, sounding concerned, "An' anyway, you're scarin' her. She won' wanna stay if she hears what you've got to say."

Suddenly, she heard the same ghoulish screams of the dementors echoing in the darkness, but this time, there were other, more human sounds. Suddenly, the lift sprang to life, and began to go up.

Before she lost sight of them, Yaxley tossed Hermione an old, smelly tattered prison robe. "Put those on," he said.

Moments later, when the lift shuddered to a stop, she found herself staring into the empty hood of a dementor crouching on the muddy floor to get a closer look at her, and cocking its head to the side. She heard a rattling sound, and gave out a shudder, as she felt a hopeless hollowing in her chest. A wraithlike hand reached out of the robe, and clasped her wrists, and dragged her along the floor, past rows and rows of dark, empty cells.

"Wrackspurts," she heard a hurried whispering voice, and realized it was Luna's.

"Hermione!" She heard someone scream out her name slowly, and she knew that it was Ron's. She suddenly realized with horror that the entire Order was here in Azkaban prison. Each cell that she had thought had been empty was filled with people, each held a prisoner, but they were too weak to get up and fight back the growing darkness in their minds.

The dementor dragged her to the last cell, a small little coffin of a room, full of puddles on the ground, that faced the stormy sea outside, and that didn't even have bars on the windows that let in the rain. What were bars when they were too depressed to even escape?

Her hands and legs were tied behind her back. There was a small, worn mattress and a tattered blanket, and a rat scurried across the floor and she felt its soft furry body bump against her hip and scramble over her legs.

That was the first time she screamed.

She screamed and screamed, but no one could hear her except the dementors that glided outside her cell, sucking every happy memory till she was left with nothing but pain and despair and emptiness.

She began shivering from the cold, and she screamed all night long.

In the morning, she laid her head down on the ground, exhausted, and whispered one last word into the darkness before she forgot it entirely.

"Malfoy."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Escape**

* * *

Somewhere after the tenth day, Hermione had lost track of time.

All she did now was lie down facing the window by the stormy North Sea, which sent rain straight into her cell. That is, if it could be called a window. It was more like the stones of the wall had fallen away, exposing the outside. She could have jumped if she wanted to, but she couldn't even muster the energy to move her hand in that direction.

Her brown hair was tangled, frizzed, wet and fell over her face and across the straw-covered floor and she didn't even bother brushing it away. There was a crust of bread and a flagon of water nearby lying untouched for days. When the dementors glided past her cell, she started screaming for them to get away, but she realized the screaming was all in her mind now; she was in a nightmare from which she couldn't wake. It took hours of trying and wishing to make herself turn slightly onto her back.

A long time ago in Hogwarts, she imagined she would be hysterical if she ever found herself in Azkaban and forgot all the people she had known and loved. Now, if you asked her what was it like to be around a dementor, she would know better - you became a ghost, a shell. At first, it felt strange, almost like a panic attack. Her heart started racing quickly, mostly out of fear. She didn't know when she started forgetting, because it happened so slowly. The memories slip and slide and finally fall so far away that you can't even think to look for them.

She forgot she had been a Gryffindor, brave, smart, capable, good, and kind. She forgot she was loved. She forgot her parents. She forgot her friends. She forgot all the points she had won, all the spells she had cast, all the books she had read, all the jokes she had shared with Harry and Ron. She forgot how it felt when Malfoy kissed her, and she forgot his face, and the way his hair fell in his eyes.

Everything faded to black. Everything seemed hopeless. Hermione was simply waiting for death.

To pass the time, she used to try to discern the voices of the screaming, to try to tell if it was Harry or Ginny or Seamus or Flitwick who was behind the blood-curdling cries. But soon she tired of that game, and she didn't want to hear them anymore because she didn't want to hear them dying. Because they were never getting out of here alive.

Because no one could survive this.

Well, that's what she thought, until the day Luna strolled into her cell and smiled vaguely at her, dusting imaginary dust off her lilac robes.

At first Hermione thought it was a hallucination. But when Luna leaned over and absentmindedly brushed the matted hair out of Hermione's eyes, Hermione flinched. It was the first move she had moved in a week.

"You really should brush your hair, you know," Luna said dreamily.

"Luna," Hermione said hoarsely, "Wha-what -"

"They don't lock the doors," Luna said, answering the unspoken question in Hermione's mind, "They think we can't escape."

"Luna, how did you escape your chains - is everyone else -" Hermione began, but couldn't finish asking her question.

"You just slip out of them," Luna looked her up and down, "You're doing better than the rest of them though. Harry's a mess." Luna reached over for the flagon of water and held it to Hermione's lips. "You should drink something," Luna said.

"How are you so -?" Hermione asked in shock. She glanced out her cell and worriedly noticed that the dementors were on the other side of the prison, and it would take them a couple minutes to come back and notice something was amiss.

"Oh, the dementors don't bother me for some reason," Luna said airily, "The wrackspurts, though … you haven't seen them around, have you?" She asked, swatting the air a little and ducking.

"No," Hermione lips cracked a smile, "No, I haven't."

"Oh well, I should be heading back to my cell," Luna said, getting to her feet and dusting herself off casually, "They'll think something's up. I can come back later though."

Luna did come back. She returned everyday.

Hermione barely responded most days, just letting Luna ramble on, wondering if the girl was just a figment of her imagination, or she was going insane. How could someone be so calm in Azkaban? Sometimes Luna just sat there, gathering straw from Hermione's cell for some odd reason.

Even though she didn't want to admit it, Hermione seemed to be getting better with Luna around. The third day, Luna taught Hermione a complicated move that showed her how she brought her hands under her legs and how she brought her hands to her face so she could bite the chains off. It took Hermione a couple days, but she was finally free. She rubbed her wrists in relief and stumbled to her feet and get the cramp out of her legs. The dementors didn't seem to notice that she was free or that she was getting better or even that Luna was escaping her cell everyday. It was like they were distracted by something else, although Hermione couldn't for the life of her imagine what.

"We should think of something," Luna said casually one day, gathering straw to make herself a tiara and holding it to her head, "I think we should escape."

It was just like Luna to suggest something so ridiculous.

"Luna, we can't. That's impossible."

"Well, at least I got you to say something," Luna said, shrugging, " You were getting awfully quiet back there. I was getting worried, you know," she said, and took the straw tiara off to add more straw to it. "I'll be heading off then," Luna said and pranced out, leaving Hermione by herself.

"But escape is impossible." Hermione said again to no one in particular, and it felt like she was thinking of something, but she didn't know what. "Impossible."

"Impossible?" She heard a hoarse voice say, a few cells down.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding nearly hysterical from joy. "Harry? Is that you?"

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked a little weakly. "Luna's been coming by, visiting all of us, cheering us up. What do you mean, escape is impossible?"

"But no one's ever escaped Azkaban before," Hermione said, "No one. Of course there was Sirius Black, but he was an Animagus! And the Death Eaters escaped in mass numbers, but they had assistance! I don't think any of us can do it on our own. It's impossible. Impossible," Hermione repeated with finality, and she absentmindedly reached over for the crust of bread that had been tossed in a few days ago.

"I'm going to ask you again. Impossible?" Harry asked. He stopped, and it was deadly silent. "Hermione Jean Granger," Harry gritted out, "Are you, or are you not a witch? If you can't figure out a way out of here, no one can. You're the only one who knows how to do it."

Even though his voice went silent after that, his words rang in her mind all night long.

Hermione groaned in frustration. It was just like Harry and Ron and everyone else to leave it to her to figure everything out. She didn't always have the answers! How was she supposed to plot an escape out of Azkaban of all places? How was she supposed to find a way for them to escape alive? How was she supposed to do it on her own?

She remembered how she used to listen for the sound of the slightest movement in the prison, and remembered how she wished it was Draco coming to free her. Her heart used to speed up with the hope, but then every time it turned out to be someone else, or the dementors bringing in a new prisoner. It was difficult to tell herself that Draco wasn't coming, or that he couldn't, and that every footstep was not his. If they were going to escape, it would have to be done by them alone, and she seemed to be the one to lead them, and she was determined to find a way.

First things first. She needed a wand. She didn't have one. None of them did.

Hermione groaned in frustration.

So, second things first. The only thing she could think of was to begin practicing wandless magic, something she'd only read about before, and something few wizards had ever mastered. It sounded like a mad plan at first, but that was all she could do at the moment, short of jumping out the window.

The days Luna didn't come by, she practiced. She spent countless hours every day repeating spells, even though the only one that worked was her Patronus. One day, something white and smoky leapt out of her fingertip every time she thought of Draco and said the spell, as she remembered the one moment that made her feel happiest and full of hope. At first it was a little glow at the end of her fingernail. She gasped loudly in surprise and sat up.

"Harry! I think it's working!" She cried.

"That's great, Hermione! Keep trying!" Harry said encouraging her, "Keep going! You can do it.'

She tried repeating it till a couple days later when it became a little smoky wisp. Hermione practiced all night long after that. In the morning, it was a burst that disappeared, but she could have sworn it looked like an otter, or something like it. That evening, it became a fully formed figure that trotted around the room a little before disappearing. Even Luna saw it once. It was really curious, she thought smiling. It seemed to be changing form too. It used to be an otter, but now it seemed to resemble a ferret. It kept growing in size till it was nearly bigger than she was.

In the days to come, Luna managed to get everyone out of their chains. They were all huddled together in Hermione's cell at the end of the hallway and there were about a hundred of them, less than half were members of the Order of the Phoenix. The oddest thing was that the dementors seemed hardly to notice this change in the prison's accommodations. Though they glided past the cells, they were distracted and seemed to be diminishing in number, though how that was possible she didn't know.

Her patronus grew stronger as the days passed, and she wondered if that had anything to do with the dementors' growing weaker. At this point, Harry and the others managed to gain their strength, and Harry was the only other person able to conjure his patronus wandlessly. They took turns to use the spell to keep everyone's spirits up. But they had to devise another way out other than just keeping the dementors at bay because they didn't know how long they'd be able to hold them off.

They needed another plan. A better one.

Hermione knew that the prisoners weren't allowed to apparate within the prison, but it was possible to apparate outside of it. She peered out of her window, and noticed the nearly hundred foot drop to the rocks below. It was a precarious drop, suicide at best. But it was better than staying here, and on that point everyone agreed, even Hermione, who was afraid of heights.

Luna suggested they use a rope to lower themselves as much as possible, before jumping. All the straw Luna had been gathering had been for a purpose after all.

They had planned to apparate to a secret Order hideaway that only Harry knew the location of, to ensure its safety.

Finally, the day came for the great escape. That morning Hermione noticed that there were only about a handful of dementors. It was a sunny day too, which may have helped them and moved the odds in their favor. They even tested the rope and found that it very nearly reached the bottom, which was good enough for all of them. It was now or never.

One by one, they lowered themselves out the window, and the rope tugged and pulled, while they held on to it. Harry leaned out the window and looked down, and let the others know triumphantly that the ones who had escaped had done it. They had apparated. Everyone cheered and hurried along. Luna was one of the last few to leave, and she wished the rest of them luck, and then held on to the rope and jumped off.

It was down to Harry and Hermione and they were arguing who was going to be last. They decided to tie the rope to the bars of the cell door, and testing its strength, decided that they'd both go down together, or at least Harry would go down first since Hermione was deathly afraid. Hermione took a nervous breath. She held on to the rope with both hands, and noticed how cold and clammy her fingers were and how rough the rope was. The wind near the window was blowing fiercely, and the rope swayed to and fro, which made her doubly nervous. When it swung one way, when Harry was climbing down, she screamed.

"Harry! You prat! Stop moving!" She yelled, and he muttered a curse under his breath.

"How am I supposed to get down without bloody moving?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know! Stop moving the rope!" She yelled again.

"That's not me! That's the wind!" Harry yelled.

"Stop talking! You're making me nervous!" Hermione said, screwing her eyes shut.

He stayed silent.

"Harry!" She screamed, looking down nervously, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"You just told me to - ugh!" Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "Hermione! Let go! You can do it! Climb down!" Harry yelled. "You'll be fine!"

Hermione had in reality barely moved from the window. She noticed Harry getting further and further down while she still hadn't made her way out. She saw a faint movement as he apparated and decided it was now or never.

Her hand slipped a little, and her hands tightened around the rope, paralyzed. She took a deep breath, and thought of the day she flew with Malfoy, and tried to calm herself. She let herself down slowly, and even though the rope swayed, and the wind seemed to be picking up, she was determined to do it. Her legs found a foothold on the wall, and she slowly lowered herself down.

"Oh no you don't!" She heard a gruff voice near her ear and her eyes opened wide in panic as a pair of rough hands clamped around her arms and pulled her up. "Tryin' to get away, were you?"

Out of everything she had planned that day, she wasn't ready to come face to face with Yaxley, Goyle, Mulciber and about forty Death Eaters staring murderously at her from her cell.

"Where's Potter? Where are all the others?" Yaxley yelled at her as he dropped her on the floor. He was towering over her and baring his teeth.

Bellatrix shrieked, running from empty cell to empty cell, "They've gone! They're all gone!"

"How'd you manage to do it? What'd you do to all the dementors?" Goyle was yelling.

"They didn't even have wands!" Lestrange added.

Hermione cowered in the corner, glad that Harry had escaped. She searched the faces of the Death Eaters, looking for Malfoy's, but he wasn't there. Suddenly, she heard a hissing sound and saw Nagini slither toward her. She looked up, fearful. Voldemort's face was suddenly inches from her own.

"Well, well, well, this is mossst interesssting," He hissed.

"What are we going to do with her, My Lord?" Yaxley asked unctuously, his shoulders hunched. "She knows Potter and the others are and she isn't telling."

"Take her to Luciusssss," Voldemort hissed, walking away from her, "He hass waysss of making them talk."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This chapter was just a means for her to get to Malfoy Manor where all the bantering and fun between Draco and Hermione starts again.

So the only one who didn't escape Azkaban was Hermione, who is discovered at the last moment by the Death Eaters, who then decide to take her to Malfoy Manor for questioning. Stay tuned for the next chapter where she and Draco meet once again, and she finally meets Pansy Parkinson. And why is Narcissa Malfoy so nice to their new prisoner? The rest of the story, which will be about ten more chapters (or more), is going to take place in Malfoy Manor where Hermione goes from being its prisoner to the lady of the house.


End file.
